A good friend of mine called yesterday from Norway to find out what
was happening in the 4th Test which, as I am sure you know, ended in a
Mega-FIASCO.

He was in (or near) Bergen and he was coming to the end of a 2-week
visit for some salmon fishing and - Guess What? - the rivers were
almost dry! Hence, no salmon nor any tadpoles either. And not even a
trace of salmonella.

He told me that the scenery was amazing but, of course, he didn't go
to admire the scenery.

He will be visiting me on Sept 2 and I would like to give him a
versification to commemorate his fruitless and fishless visit.

Would it be possible for you to do the necessary?

Despite the heading, I would prefer a Pink Po of epic proportions
(possibly on the scale of the Iliad) to a measly haiku but whatever
you can conjure up will be appreciated.

His name is Peter. He's the guy with an enormous appetite who, in his
youth, led an expedition up the Amazon. Being accident prone, he fell
into a crocodile infested river and, before they could pull him out,
he'd eaten three crocodiles.

Many thanks!

Bryan

PS Please also arrange a new GA Category for 'Versifications'.

Bryan,

I haven't been fishing since I was a youngster. As I recall, fishing
was a lot like my work on Google Answers: mostly waiting and hoping,
with an occasional catch that makes it all worthwhile. And if there is
no catch, the day is made worthwhile by the thought that tomorrow will
almost certainly be better.

Here's a po for Peter. It is no Iliad, but it is odd, I see.

NET WORTH

The experience of fishing
Is a thing beyond compare:
It's a muddled mix of wishing
And elation and despair.

Piscatorial adventure
Is a dice-roll and a risk,
Like a game of turn-the-trencher
With a playful cry, "skitt fisk!"

The mind doth reel and boggle
At the massive waste of energy.
Is this just a grand boondoggle,
Or a cosmic man/fish synergy?

When the waters leap with salmon,
And when fish are rare and few
Casting on through feast and famine,
Sometimes hauling in a shoe,

The philosophers of angling
Are the sages of the nations:
With their hopeful lines a-dangling
They are paragons of patience.

So they cast their lines and wait,
And re-cast, and wait some more,
To get something on their plate
That they could buy at the store.

=====================================

Best always,
Pink

Thank you, Pink

I am sure that Peter will be more than delighted by your poetic endeavours.

All the Best

Bryan

I understand that Salmon Ella is today's version Apple Mary.

"I would prefer a Pink Po of epic proportions..."

You're going to have to put on a lot of weight, Bryan, from my
German-influenced reading of that request, but it WILL probably be
pink.

The Poet Laureate does his work for a couple of butts of wine a year 
- at least used to, but I think the going rate for incidental poetry
is a per line price.

Make 'em short and numerous, Pink.  ;-)

Bryan,

Many thanks for the five stars and the ample tip! Please give my best
regards to your friend, the Norwegian fisherman. Or, as seems to be
the case, fishlessman. And here is a hint: if he brings along any
lutefisk for you, feed it to Daisy on the sly. It is my firm opinion
that this stuff is not suitable for consumption by human beings. More
info on lutefisk may be found here:

http://www.answers.google.com/answers/threadview?id=252321

~Pink