09/04/2026
Twas the night before Max Derby, and all through the lodge,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a frog.
The rods were all rigged by anglers with care,
In hopes that a musky soon would be there.
The fisherman were nestled all snug in their bunks,
While visions of bucktails and follows to come.
With batteries charged for the trolling ahead
They dreamed of the fight and the while they went to bed.
When out on the dock there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bunk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen dew
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a guide boat idling, with tackle and gear.
With a little old skipper, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he’d make the fish stick.
Louder than the Opti his pet Musky he called out,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now Wamba!, Now Baihly!, now Cooper! and Forrest!
On, plastics! on, bucktail! on, top water come forth!
To the point! to the weedline! to the rocks and beach!
Now cast away! cast away!, don’t stop! You’ll see!
So out to the surface the lures all flew,
With Vern full of rumpies and Doocy still Awake a twinkling and splash I heard on the lake
The splashing and thrashing for musky’s dear sake.
As I drew up my head and was turning around, she screamed Net! and to the dock I went running around Happy Derby to all, and to all a good-night! Safe Fishing tomorrow and net man’s delight!
