DESCRIPTION:
Yes, I do love to fly -fish! This song is dedicated to my Grandfathers, both loved to fish, and both had no problem in giving life's advise to their grandson, often held in tow carrying the bait and a bucket of dreams... Thanks Pap!

Copyrighted Material / Music & Lyrics:

Broken Hearted Fly

I stand within this river, caressed by the currents flow,
cast my line on the water, watch the falling fly go, light upon the surface, gliding with the tow, an artifact of a memory, from thirty years ago.

Said Kris I've fished this river, before your Grandma came along, waded down it winding path, and brought its bounty home. Now sometimes the run is clear, sometimes its a muddy gold, but ya gotta keep a line out, in the river of your soul. Now your eyes betray your heart, she was a handsome lass I know, but if her love ain't the sticking kind, you know its best to let er go, gotta learn to read the seasons, lifes hatches and it flow, and keep your eyes wide open, every step you go.

Now sit down here beside me, O I'll show you how to live, he placed a hook within a vice, said its the smallest things that give..took a bobbin in his hand and gently begin to spin, crimson thread around the shaft, from the eyelet to the bend, black hackle for a tail, he saddled with grizzly brown, tied off a head of red, then he glued it down. Gentle as a whisper, dropped it in my hand, said wisdom comes with sorrow, in the life of every good man.

Now I may not ever meet the one, you know my days they kinda slip on by, but I'm sure you'll have good luck a fishin this Broken Hearted Fly, gotta wade out a little bit deeper, where every step is gauged, by the power of the current, and the path that you have laid. Watch the breaking of the surface, the swaying of the cane, popping under willows, and the scent of coming rain. Though sometimes your creel be empty, with nothing there to show, O consider not the river, but the season in which you go.

Now life is like a river, its days are like the flow, her love is like the currents, that holds me to the tow. Sometimes the run is clear, sometimes its a muddy gold, but I bet I'll keep a fishin, in the river of my soul....