Twas the night before the Classic, when all through Crystal City Not a Catman was stirring, not even Catfish_Willie. The Surges were hung in the rodracks to use, In hopes that soon theyd bend under hits from big blues. The catters were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of wide tails danced in their heads. And Cuz in his kerchief, and Gary in his cap, Were arguing who would get skunked, man, what a scrap. When out on the river there arose such a clatter, Kutter sprang from his cave to see what was the matter. Away in the west the lightning did flash but no ran did fall, for the luck of the Classic his curse was no match. The moon on the muddy, turbulent flow Gave the lustre of mid-day to the Mississippi below. When, what to Randys wondering eyes should appear, But a big a@@ boat, stuffed full of catfish gear. With a little old driver, so gray-headed and having no job, He knew in a moment it must be Catfish Bob. Wide an turbulent, his wake was like flame, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name! "Now Cuz! now, Baja ! now, Danno and Rat! On, Darren! On, Grumper! On, Skippy and Linus so fat ! To the top of the lock! to the top of the wing dyke wall! Now go away! go away! go away all!" As dried shad guts that before the wild tornado fly, When they meet with a barge-wake, mount to the sky. So up to the weigh-in the Bob he did ride, With the big a@@ boat full of fishies, and the others hopes, they just died. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the river The sound of a boat --AH a challenge-giver. As they drew in their heads , and were turning around, Up to the docks came Team DeathBarge with a bound. They were dressed all in Carhartt, from head to shoe, And their clothes were all tarnished with skippy guts and goo. A bundle of kitties they had flung on on their backs, And they looked wildeyed, and crazy, like they were strung out on crack. Linus eyes were so bloodshot! And Rats beard so hairy! but they had lots of fish, my were they merry! but soon their smiles faded, and their giggles were few, As a big ol toon hove into view. Dan and Harold spoke not a word, but went straight to their work, And pulled the fish from the well, then turned with a jerk. And sticking his finger inside of his nose, Dan gave a nod, and the numbers on the scales, they rose! They all held their breath and made not a whistle, And their nerves were sharp, like thorns on a thistle. But I heard the judge exclaim, as he looked at that crew, "The winners some guy from Peoria with a Zebco 202!"