And now, the end is here;
And so we faced the final ice day,
My friends, I'll say it clear,
I'll state the case, of which there's no ice left.
We've fished, a season dull,
We've traveled each and every lake - hey!;
And more, much more than this,
We did it our way.
Regrets, we've had a few;
But then again, El Niņo is not to mention
We did what we had to do,
And got on the ice without exemption.
We planned and marked the catch;
Each careful step along the ice way,
And more, much more than this,
We did it our way.
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When they bit off more than they could chew,
But through it all, when there was doubt,
They ate it up and spat it out.
We faced it all and we stood tall;
And did it our way.
We've fished, we've laughed and cried.
We've had our fill; our share of losing.
And now, as ice subsides,
We find it not at all amusing.
To think we didn't fish all that;
And may we say - not in a shy way,
"Oh no, oh no not us,
We fished it our way.
For what is a man, what has he got?
If not the ice, then we have naught.
To fish the holes, we truly feel,
And not the type of ice that truly yields,
The record shows we took the blows -
And did it our way!
Yes, it was our way.
Andy Sinatra signing off......weep weep....
