Fishing - Joan Baez

Please have a seat, sorry, I’m late

I know how long you’ve had to wait

I did not forget your documents

No time to waste, why not begin?

Here’s how it works, I’ve got these faces

You give the names, I won’t deport you

Make sure you face my tape recorder

Make no mistake, this fountain pen

Could put you on a plane by ten

And by the way, your next of kin

I know each house she’s hiding in

So now that you know whose skin you’re saving

In this photograph, who’s this one waving?

I think you know, so speak up, amigo

Says here that by trade you were a fisherman

Well, I’ll bet you Indians can really reel them in

And if you get the chance

You should try to get up to Lake Michigan

Well, maybe but then again, anyway

Where were we then?

Is he your friend?

I recommend you look again

Where does he stay?

What is his name?

There is no shame, he’d do the same

So what do you say?

Don’t have all day

It’s up to you, which will it be

Good citizen or poor campesinos?

My dad used to rent us this place in Ontario

He showed us how to cast the line and tie the flies

He used to say God rewards us for letting the small ones go

Well, maybe but I don’t know

Anyway, it’s easy to bite, can’t snap a lie

Just take the bait, can’t fight the hook

Hurts less if you don’t try to dive

Senor, as you know I was a fisherman

How full the nets came in

We hauled them up by hand

But when we fled

I left them just out past the coral reefs

They’re waiting there for me

Running deep