Great Lake Canoe
Paddlin down the michigan
Catchin all the fish I can
Breathin holy air in my canoe
Groovin down superior
Takin taboos easier
Talkin with the lord in my canoe
Send me no pillows I can dream on
Ive seen all the nightmares I can bear to see
Gotta find the river to your kingdom in my canoe
Many moons on erie lake
Not a bottle of beer to break
Heaven knows I try best I can do
Maybe lake ontario
Gonna take me where I hope
Got to find the lord in my canoe
Paddlin down the michigan
Catchin all the fish I can
Breathin holy air in my canoe
Send me no willows I can weep on
Ive done all the crying I can bear to do
Lookin for the tributary to your kingdom
In my canoe.
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Canary Yellow Canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - my yellow canoe
I want to go tripping in my canary yellow canoe
The eastmain, coppermine, back river too
In my canary yellow canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - yellow canoe
I want to run rivers in my canary yellow canoe
The desmoines river, rupert river, george river too
In my canary yellow canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - mellow yellow canoe
I want to go tripping in my canary yellow canoe
Chebugema, peace river, resolute too
In my canary yellow canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - my elephant too
I want to go tripping in my canary yellow canoe
Churchill, yellowknife, ross river too
In my canary yellow canoe
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Lac Sainte Ireneé
ON Lac Sainte Ireneé the morn
Lay rimmed with pine and roped with mist.
The old moon hid her silver horn
In shadow that the sun had kissed.
One went by like a wandering soul,
And followed ever,
By reed and river,
The silent canoe of the lake patrol.
On Lac Sainte Ireneé the noon
Lay wolf-like waiting by her hills.
No voice was heard but the sad loon
And the wild-throated whip-poor-wills.
But one went by on the bitter flaw,
And followed ever,
By rapid and river,
The swift canoe of the white man's law.
On Lac Sainte Ireneé the moose
Broke from his balsams, breathing hot.
The bittern and the great wild goose
Pled south before the sudden shot.
One fled with them like a hunted soul,
And followed ever,
By ford and river,
The little canoe of the lake patrol.
On Lac Sainte Ireneé the blue
Vast arch of night was starred and deep.
No footsteps scared the caribou
Nor waked the wolverine from his sleep.
Loosed indeed was the hunted soul,
And homeward ever,
By rapid and river,
Slipped the canoe of the lake patrol.
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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Missing Couple
Beginning unknown:
Still the canoe floated
The calluses paddled.
Sunny days and moonless nights
I have watched them floating
On the river meandering.
The canoe rose and fell
On the wavelets ten thousand times
During the springs.
Black the hairs were;
Many winters passed;
Now snow white being exposed.
Narrow escapes
From the maelstroms unexpected,
And forward floated.
A long voyage; two together;
Funeral feast smells;
They drink to the lees.
A long missing; I think I see them again
Rest under the holy banyan tree;
Empty canoe tied to the tree.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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The Red Canoe
De win' is sleepin' in de pine, but O! de
night is black!
An' all day long de loon bird cry on Lac Waya-
gamack-
No light is shinin' by de shore for helpin' steer
heem t'roo
W'en out upon de night, Ubalde he tak' de
red canoe.
I hear de paddle dip, dip, dip! wance more I
hear de loon-
I feel de breeze was show de way for storm
dat 's comin' soon,
An' den de sky fly open wit' de lightning
splittin' t'roo-
An' 'way beyon' de point I see de leetle red
canoe.
It 's dark again, but lissen how across Waya-
gamack
De tonder 's roarin' loud, an' now de mount-
ains answer back-
I wonder wit' de noise lak dat, he hear me, le
bon Dieu
W'en on ma knee I ax Heem save de leetle red
canoe!
Is dat a voice, so far away, it die upon ma hear?
Or only win' was foolin' me, an' w'isperin'
'Belzemire?'
Yaas, yaas, Ubalde, your Belzemire she 's
prayin' hard for you-
An' den again de lightning come, but w'ere 's
de red canoe?
Dey say I 'm mad, dem foolish folk, cos w'en
de night is black
An' w'en de wave lak snow-dreef come on Lac
Wayagamack
I tak' de place w'ere long ago we use to sit, us
two,
An' wait until de lightning bring de leetle red
canoe.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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Flyin Down The Freeway
(kinky friedman)
Well, its retro rocket time inside my attic
Im all wrapped up in the flag to keep me warm
Got my brain locked in the cruise-o-matic
Rollin ronnie reagan in suppository form
Flyin down the freeway
Jettin down to l.a., it sets me free
Going back to nature in my jew canoe
Flyin down the freeway all the way with you
Ill tell the maharishi that Ive seen ya
Im a-travelin east until I know Im free
Ill take the midnight flight to british guinea
Aint nobody casting asparagus on me
Flyin down the freeway
Jettin down to l.a., it sets me free
Going back to nature in my jew canoe
Flyin down the freeway all the way with you
Ill get a mule and be a flat land farmer
Grow a little bumper crop of grass
In hollywood Ill total my karma
Im gonna cast my seed upon the ground
Gonna covet my neighbors ass
Im flyin down the freeway
Jettin down to l.a., it sets me free
Going back to nature in my jew canoe
Flyin down the freeway all the way with you
Well, past the pipe of peace in our abode
Buried in the ruins of mexico
Well dip some snuff in mainline guacamole
Well listen to the opry upon the radio
Flyin down the freeway
Jettin down to l.a., it sets me free
Going back to nashville in my jew canoe
Flyin down the freeway all the way with you
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Muskegon River
Floating down the river in a canoe
Left the world behind, just your family and you
Ten miles of paddling, around river bends
Passed downed logs, turtles, and wrens
Watching dragonflies chasing around
The river gets shallow, and we run aground
We get out and set our canoe afloat
Then help the guys, unstuck their boat
We “DUCK” as we float under a tree
Just the four of us, my family and me
We come to a place, where people reside
Ducks fly and crayfish hide
Past seawalls, we come around the bend
We can see it, the launch at the end
It’s a mad dash, back to the shore
The water is flying and so are the oar
8/9/9
poem by Rhonda Baker
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The Lake of the Dismal Swamp
'THEY made her a grave too cold and damp
For a soul so warm and true;
And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp,
Where all night long, by a firefly lamp,
She paddles her white canoe.
And her firefly lamp I soon shall see,
And her paddle I soon shall hear;
Long and moving our life shall be
And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree,
When the footstep of death is near.'
Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds, -
His path was rugged and sore,
Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds,
Through many a fen where the serpent feeds,
And man never trod before.
And when on the earth he sank to sleep,
If slumber his eyelids knew,
He lay where the deadly vine doth weep
Its venemous tear, and nightly steep
The flesh with blistering dew!
And near him the she-wolf stirr'd the brake,
And the copper-snake breathed in his ear,
Till he starting cried, from his dream awake,
'Oh when shall I see the dusky Lake,
And the white canoe of my dear?'
He saw the Lake, and a meteor bright
Quick over its surface play'd, -
'Welcome,' he said, 'my dear one's light!'
And the dim shore echo'd for many a night
The name of the death-cold maid.
Till he hollow'd a boat of the birchen bark,
Which carried him off from the shore;
Far, far he follow'd the meteor spark,
The wind was high and the clouds were dark,
And the boat return'd no more.
But oft, from the Indian hunter's camp,
This lover and maid so true
Are seen at the hour of midnight damp
To cross the Lake by a firefly lamp,
And paddle their white canoe!
poem by Thomas Moore
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Maybe my canoe is bigger than yours, but the sea is the same. If there are no fish, we both go hungry.
Shadow In The Water
man in a canoe on hot water
paddling away enjoying a good day
shadowed by a giant shark in the water
true colours this guy has a seriously scary shadow
dark black shadow circles banana canoe on calm sea
sun on naked back yellow shadow turquoise water
man madness consumes everything alive
at end of day who is apex predator prey?
sharks prey consume to eat to survive
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Whippoorwill River
(Vince Gill / Dean Dillon)
My dad was a man
With two hard workin' hands
He always took time out for me
Well, I'd come home from school
Load up that canoe
He'd say, "What's the bet gonna be?"
Chorus:
We'd float that boat down old Whippoorwill River
Catch us a big one or two
Well, he taught me about life
And its simple pleasures
And whatever else that he knew.
Then I met a girl
With a head full of curls
A pure and innocent heart
Oh, I knew she was the one
And when weekends would come
Wild horses couldn't keep us apart.
Chorus:
We'd run those ponies down Whippoorwill River
And I'd steal a sweet kiss or two
She taught me about love
And its simple pleasures
And whatever else that she knew.
Well, I married that girl
And we have a song
And he looks like my daddy used to
Oh, his mom and I
Always find time
To do things that he likes to do.
Chorus:
Well, he loves to go fishing on Whippoorwill River
And ride in his grandad's canoe
We teach hima bout life
And its simple pleasures
And pass down a memory or two.
Yeah, he loves to go fishing on Whippoorwill River
And catch him a big one or two
He's learning about life
And its simple pleasures
And making a memory or two.
Ooh...
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do not kick away the canoe which helped you to cross the river.
The river is my brother for it carries my canoe.
Native American proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A canoe peddler doesn't tell the crocodile he has along snout until he's crossed the river.
Re-voyage
What of the days when we two dreamed together?
Days marvellously fair,
As lightsome as a skyward floating feather
Sailing on summer air--
Summer, summer, that came drifting through
Fate's hand to me, to you.
What of the days, my dear? I sometimes wonder
If you too wish this sky
Could be the blue we sailed so softly under,
In that sun-kissed July;
Sailed in the warm and yellow afternoon,
With hearts in touch and tune.
Have you no longing to re-live the dreaming,
Adrift in my canoe?
To watch my paddle blade all wet and gleaming
Cleaving the waters through?
To lie wind-blown and wave-caressed, until
Your restless pulse grows still?
Do you not long to listen to the purling
Of foam athwart the keel?
To hear the nearing rapids softly swirling
Among their stones, to feel
The boat's unsteady tremor as it braves
The wild and snarling waves?
What need of question, what of your replying?
Oh! well I know that you
Would toss the world away to be but lying
Again in my canoe,
In listless indolence entranced and lost,
Wave-rocked, and passion tossed.
Ah me! my paddle failed me in the steering
Across love's shoreless seas;
All reckless, I had ne'er a thought of fearing
Such dreary days as these,
When through the self-same rapids we dash by,
My lone canoe and I.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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I was a hunter and fisherman, and many a time I have slipped out into the woods and prairies at 4 a.m. and brought home plenty of game, or have gone in a canoe to the cove and brought back a good supply of fresh fish.
The Torch
ON my northwest coast in the midst of the night, a fishermen's group
stands watching;
Out on the lake, that expands before them, others are spearing
salmon;
The canoe, a dim shadowy thing, moves across the black water,
Bearing a Torch a-blaze at the prow.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Leetle Lac Grenier
Leetle Lac Grenier, she 's all alone,
Right on de mountain top,
But cloud sweepin' by, will fin' tam to stop
No matter how quickly he want to go,
So he'll kiss leetle Grenier down below.
Leetle Lac Grenier, she 's all alone,
Up on de mountain high
But she never feel lonesome, 'cos for w'y?
So soon as de winter was gone away
De bird come again an' sing to her ev'ry day.
Leetle Lac Grenier, she 's all alone,
Back on de mountain dere,
But de pine tree an' spruce stan' ev'rywhere
Along by de shore, an' mak' her warm
For dey kip off de win' an' de winter storm.
Leetle Lac Grenier, she 's all alone,
No broder, no sister near,
But de swallow will fly, an' de beeg moose
deer
An' caribou too, will go long way
To drink de sweet water on Lac Grenier.
Leetle Lac Grenier, I see you now,
Onder de roof of spring
Ma canoe 's afloat, an' de robin sing,
De lily's beginnin' her summer dress,
An' trout 's wakin' up from hees long long res'.
Leetle Lac Grenier, I 'm happy now,
Out on de ole canoe,
For I 'm all alone, ma chere, wit' you,
An' if only a nice light rod I had
I 'd try dat fish near de lily pad!
Leetle Lac Grenier, O! let me go,
Don't spik no more,
For your voice is strong lak de rapid 's roar,
An' you know youse'f I 'm too far away,
For visit you now -leetle Lac Grenier!
poem by William Henry Drummond
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When one dreams of a canoe, there will be no luck the next day.
A canoe does not know who is king. When it turns over, everyone gets wet.