Nebraska Catfish

Walking along the tracks There’s no trains a-comin’ through Nebraska Prairie sun on the rails like a knife cuttin’ out a slice Checkin’ catfish lines tossed in the Platte Dark and muddy What’s on the other end I don’t know til I give it a tug... I don’t know til I give it a tug... I don’t know til I give it a tug... So many hidden things, they leave their trails They leave their marks You can see them in the faces walkin’ down the street, mid-February I don’t know their names, I don’t know their stories But I know the tug that pulls and fights Oh, here they are in the current, moving upstream: Hook set, and it’s not coming out... Hook set, and it’s not coming out... Hook set, and it’s not coming out... Not coming out... Walking along the tracks There’s no trains a-comin’ through Nebraska The boy sits on the grass in the shelter-belt Oh, the corn fields are checkered out Their lines are broken, their lines are broken Every stalk’s an amputee Aw shucks... The wind makes the cottonwoods creak The limbs are fallin’, limbs are fallin’ There’s a storm a-comin, can you feel the tug? Can you feel the tug? What’s still submerged It makes the twigs dance, makes the snow-fence howl It’s a song it’s a dance, It’s a catfish still alive on the line... I don’t know til I give it a tug... Hook set, and it’s not coming out... I don’t know til I give it a tug... Hook set, and it’s not coming out...