02/06/2026
He was born in the summer of his twenty-seventh year,
Headed west where the clear blue waters flow.
Left the city far behind him, you could say he found his gear,
Found a peace that only rivers seem to know.
When he first came to the valley, his heart was far away,
On the road and running out of time.
But he cast upon the current, and the world just slipped away,
Every ripple sang a line.
And The Fly Fishing Show high,
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky,
The shimmer of the water’s like a lullaby,
Fly Fishing Show high,
Fly Fishing Show high.
He climbed above the pine line, saw the clouds below his feet,
Watched the Cutthroat rise through the foam.
And they say he got lost once, chasing rainbows in the stream,
But he found his way and called it home.
Now he wades in the river, through the currents wide,
Feeling rhythm in the reel’s low cry.
Every cast a kind of prayer, where his soul and stream collide,
Underneath that mountain sky.
And the Denver Fly Fishing Show high,
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky,
You talk to God and get casting advice,
Ga***rd Rockies high,
Ga***rd Rockies high.
Now his heart is full of wonder, though he still can’t understand,
Why they scar the riverbanks and then land.
For he'd be a poorer man if he’d never seen a fish rise,
Fly Fishing Show high,
Fly Fishing Show high,
Fly Fishing Show high,
Fly Fishing Show high.
Come see us in booth #234!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cOS5-n7dyj4
