For Fisherman's Day, we have collected here the funniest poems and songs about fishing and fishermen. Fisherman's Day is the favorite holiday of more than half of the men in our country, because fishing is a favorite pastime and hobby of many of them. Well, many people are connected with this holiday by work - after all, Fisherman’s Day is also a holiday of professional fishermen. So we congratulate everyone who is in one way or another connected with fishing and wish them an excellent bite, a good catch, beautiful weather and, of course, health.
Cool poems about fishing and fishermen
Happy Fisherman's Day
To those who catch clouds in the river with a flexible stick - I congratulate you on Fisherman's Day! And even though I don’t like fishing myself
I wish everyone who was tempted by this passionate intimate process: Not jealous and loving wives, Large fish with amazing weight.
So that on the surface of ponds, rivers, lakes - Not to take in a drunken glance - Never met saltpeter, Never met a longboat with Rybnadzor.
Even if the fishing is bad, The boots are leaky and the boat, So that the fish soup can be cooked on the fire, So that vodka is poured like a brother.
I wish for pike the size of sharks, And caviar from an immeasurable womb. So that no one ever drowns, but if he drowns, he will swim out.
So that the tank is filled with gasoline, So that the engines do not experience breakdowns, So that your soul in the boat, fisherman, plows the expanses of the homeland.
I say to the fishermen: - Bye! I congratulate fishermen with a rhyming word on Fisherman's Day! And hopefully with a great catch!
My friends and I are rejoicing early today, believe me, not in vain: Next to us are gear and bait, And four liters of whiskey!
Kilometers flash past us, Radio Chanson is playing for us, And the car is faster than the wind along the road rushing downhill.
It will be hot for the fishermen on the river - They say there is a crazy bite there, We are going fishing today... How can we get there without us, without worms!
Toast to fishing
I raise a toast to fishing and I’ll say frankly, it’s not in vain that our wives always sew immoral things for us, that we take off to the seas,
At the bets, at the lakes, at the rivers Early dawn with a sparkle in the eyes... Our wedding rings are lonely and bored in our pants...
We cheat on our wives with nature... For us, fishing is like a prize in life. We drink, of course, but with this ode I confirm: we encore with vodka
We welcome any fish that is caught on a sharp hook... Here the fish soup is smoking - drag a spoon And under my toast with glasses - choke!
For roach, crucian carp, rudd! For gobies, perches, pike perches! And so that the weight is over forty kilograms, To surprise all the fishermen!
For bream, silver carp, tench! For burbot, catfish, chub! So that the “blue” one returns with a catch and doesn’t grab the stars from their wives!
So that the pike doesn’t act like a bitch and is always caught! So that you don't twist your arm when showing the booty, you idiot!
Well here's to you, rod virtuosos! Pour for the networks of masters! So that in the environment of our reservoirs they would breed belugas and sturgeons!
Well, to the bottom, for good luck with the bite! Sparks from the fire, like fireworks... Representatives of different classes On this day they only drink to you!
*****
What could be more enjoyable than fishing? Nature. Morning. There is no wife nearby. Here is my neighbor, the other day, Vasily Palkin left. Pants full of happiness. The fisherman has an irrepressible character. He is greedy for fish, as long as the bite is good. I threw the tackle. In this reservoir, only red worms pecked. The roach, bream pecked, chub pecked, rudd and tench pecked. But Vasya had few worms. And here's the problem. They are over. I tried it on bloodworms, on porridge, on meat, on a sausage sandwich, on lard, bread, and even on poop - well, the infection didn’t bite. Doesn't bite. Vasily lit a cigarette and tugged at the brew... He couldn’t stand being without fish any longer. He tied a piece of paper to a hook, on which he wrote the inscription: “RED WORM.” As soon as he threw it into the water, the float immediately sank to the bottom. Sweeping. He pulls the line to the side. Our fisherman hiccupped with joy. It took four hours for the fishing rod to bend. The tenth sweat has disappeared. But then a snag appeared from the depths, and on the side there was an inscription: “FUCKING CATFISH”
*****
A warm evening by the transparent river, Where the nightingales sing madly, Having found a secluded place, I laid out my fishing rods. The men were not chattering in vain, That at the beginning of the night under the moon, You come here very often, To splash around in silence. I sit, trembling with impatience, nervously fiddling with my beard, you appeared to me in dreams, so in reality I want you. She swam so boldly and so boldly, As if there was only one mistress here - you, And with her elastic, strong body, she shot out of the water like a shell. Oh, you are my goldfish, I watch you barely breathing, white-sided, slender, fast, flexible... How good you are! But you pass by, what a bitch, I failed to lure you. It's clear, I'm not the first one you've encountered. Oh-oh-oh, what a touchy touch, Don’t look at the fact that he looks like an old man, I, like you, have planted quite a lot of them on my strong coucan. And I’m much more cunning than you, I have experience and I’m not a fool at all. I have a cunning bait and I came here for a reason. That's all, dear, you've got it, I hooked you with my hook. You see, you couldn’t resist a real man. You are mine and it immediately became easier, I will not give you to anyone. You are trembling in your hands and trembling all over... Pike, twelve kilograms.
*****
A hundred-year-old man and a beardless guy were fishing on the lake together. The young one is empty, but the old one drags minnow after minnow.
And the young man asked him: “Tell me, you got caught, but I don’t mind. How do you decide on the bait, or are you so lucky in life?”
“Son, don’t talk to me about luck. When I wake up, I look at... my organ. It lies to the left - I fish for a worm, To the right - I take bloodworms with me.”
And the young man replied: “Unfortunately, I’m afraid that your advice will not help. Mine has a different... direction, It’s a pestilence as soon as I wake up at first light.”
And the old man laughed as if the young man’s answer amused him: “Well, if it had been like that in the morning, I wouldn’t have gone fishing.”
***** What would vodka be without fishing?! - The mood is different... and the taste is not the same. I’m not very keen on vodka, but fishing! - who doesn’t drink?
Wines turn sour when unnecessary - Who will take them under the bait?! Only any kid with a juicy ear will drink vodka
And without fishing, drinking is not “the point” - A scandal in the family and a wild scream I solved the theorem a long time ago - Fishing-Vodka-Conversation
What would vodka be without fishing?! The mood is different and the taste is not the same. Here, don’t even go to a fortune teller - And so everything is clear, in advance.
*****
The cold of a quiet morning river... I warm my fists, rubbing them. Fish, wake up and get caught!.. My nerves were tense with excitement.
Again I catch an empty hook, A red worm clings to my fingers. Squish!..and the vertical float A light breeze sways again.
Oops!.. a bite... I strained my eyes, The stupid dragonfly distracts me. The heart skips a beat... There it is!.. swallows!.. quickly hook it!
First...thanks for the initiative. How many of you are still in the darkness of the depths Hidden from the distant eyes of people - Little fish, crucian carp, bream?
All day long alone I can sit freely on the shore. At home I’ll fall over without my hind legs, Joyful, satisfied, God knows.
With thoughts of rivers and ponds, I will fall asleep with a smile on my lips. My dreams are calm and light, Floats dance before my eyes.
*****
I’m standing fishing on the river, smoking a rolled-up cigarette. I hold the fishing rod in my hand, I look at the forget-me-not. I forgot about the bite and the spinner. I look at the yellow dots, and at the green bush and blue petals. And then I finally realized, I was carried away by fishing affairs, the scoundrel didn’t notice, I’m standing trampling them under my feet. I have never seen better flowers, so soft yellow and blue, And the lark probably sang Don songs. Having left a good place, I went to Lake “Krivoye”, I turned my back to Korotoyak, And Peter and Paul Fortress is nearby. Now, in order to feed the children and ex-fiancée with fish, I’m going with the hope of catching to another place.
*****
Fishing with my wife
It’s like in an old and smelly landfill, It’s in my soul today... I’m sitting with my wife fishing, hiding vodka in the reeds.
I asked for it... I whined for three weeks... I took it... Now I’m sitting here cursing fate... “We haven’t eaten fish soup for a long time. I am located here, by the stump...
Oh, what a glamorous float! I want the green one... That one... It’s a pity for the worm on my hook... I’ll let him go... Let him live...”
He doesn’t close his mouth, Christmas tree sticks! Tell her about everything stupid! I sit with my wife fishing and more and more often I get into the reeds...
I am a fisherman with both experience and experience. I went fishing naked. And the wife stands, as if in the Hermitage, With an intelligent, concerned face.
For her, this will be the first and last time, There will be our fishing promenade. You go catch pieces of herring in a jar... But I see your eyes are burning...
I see her interest in fishing is quietly stirring inside her. “Oh, he’s biting... I’m afraid of toads, you coward! Look who got it???”
And I, driving envy deeper, I say: “Roach”... Victorious shout, - “And I thought that in this puddle, Only uncle Chernomor would survive!
So, congratulate me on your start! What did you catch? Ugh... Catch up!” I wash down the vodka with bitter spleen and whisper: “Well, take a bite already!” Let's!"
Only the persecution of the brain does not subside... It rumbles incessantly, the goat! I caught a perch and a chub... A small pike and a carp
In her cage... Well, what should I do? I took her with me to… scales! Oh, what a waste she is... damn, my dear wife!
The fishing turned out to be a drama For me... And for my wife - delight! The fish brought three kilograms and I was a drunken fish lover, smelling of vodka and fire...
The man was simple and trusting, and he disappeared fishing for days. So today, again in the evening, I brought home a bucket of perch for my wife.
The wife, having cleaned the hundredth on the platter, said, stretching out her hand to the rolling pin: “You could, tell me, dear, like all people, Drink vodka, you bastard, on your fishing trip.”
*****
If suddenly after fishing you returned early in the morning, You didn’t catch anything - Because there was no bite, And your wife asked you to fry fish for breakfast, Don’t let this bother you - You go straight to the bedroom, And taking out your bit, you throw it deeper. Maybe she will bite your sluggish bait and in a fit of passion will say: Fry the food, but there will be fish!
*****
How nice it is to get up at dawn! And quietly get the fishing rods, And find that place That only you know. At this place it bites so much... Not yet... Now... That's it... And what is a nice bite - Every fisherman will tell you. How did he manage to catch a five-kilogram Plotvichka? The most important thing for a fisherman is that the river would flow slowly, And that no one would pester, No one would buzz in your ear, Well, maybe just midges... Well, let the catch be small! Enough for a cat...
*****
We're going fishing with a friend, wives, we don't take girlfriends! They picked out the worms and stuck some food with it.
Snacks, nets, spinning rod, Kazanok, potatoes, onions, Meat, vodka, they all collected, And rushed off on a long journey.
We got lost in the forest all day, but found a puddle in the evening. We were shaking and so tired, and went to bed hungry.
The night was so moonlit... I didn’t even want to sleep! The mosquitoes sang songs to us, reminisced with our friend-mother...
In the morning the boat was pumped up, and the sleepy ones sat in it. We dreamed of catching a catfish.. And a mermaid!
We didn’t have to swim for long, a puncture was discovered... We were left in our underwear with him, it turned out to be a joke!
Out of grief, we drank three hundred each and ate hake fish. Smoked like herrings, That's where a person is happy!
Poems about fishing are funny.
While fishing, something didn’t bite,
Be silent, or shout.
We poisoned a lot of complementary food, and then took out the bubbles... Late in the morning we barely got up. But there is no nozzle. Gee! In the evening we ate worms with stew... That's how the vodyara let us down. WINTER FISHING
Quilted trousers, a hat with earflaps, shoe covers for growth, a steering wheel in the pocket.
Snowflakes are spinning, the frost is sticking, Ice picks along the path leading to fishing. The river fell asleep and the ice was strong, the drill was borrowed by an unfamiliar grandfather. The hole splashed water under my feet, Send me a catch, fishing gods. I don’t regret the bloodworm, the nod is reliable, the hook!... And the perch freezes on the ice. The jig is trembling in the frozen palm, Somewhere in the gear, the thermos is lying. The tea burns, the steam comes out of your mouth... The beauty of fishing in winter is just that! The impudent ones suddenly overcame the ruffs, They got swallowed, even a line of sushi. I’ll change the leash and change the hole, I’ll offer the spinner in the new menu. And now, the luck has come again, I found a cool hole today. The ice doesn't have time to freeze, The hard worker doesn't rest! I’m dragging the perch out of the hole again, I love this fishing so much! My friend and I have been fishing for three hours already.
Drank about two bottles.
There’s just something wrong with the fish – it’s not at this celebration. It's starting to really bother me... We want to know for sure - Either this place is not like that, Or the river is not like that. A fish emerges from the river. Either it's a perch or a catfish. And with a kind smile, open with a human tongue, he says: - Guys! What are you doing there? Are you going wild?! How much can you drink while fishing?! Isn't it time for you, in fact, to take out your fishing rods and uncover them?! The fisherman is delighted.
Russian sturgeon has been around for a long time.
But without any license. Supervision can offend fish. The pond became quiet - just paint a picture,
The reeds rustled playfully in the silence, And where the water shone like mica, The float froze - neither here nor there... A little to the right, where the bushes closed, An old man was fishing, exclaiming: “Wow!
And the echo of the water lazily pumped, And the grandfather kept shouting: “Wow!” I planted bread, caught a worm, I wanted to surpass the old man in fishing. However, the float stood and stood, No one dragged the float into the depths. I couldn’t calm my nerves in any way, I kicked the frog with annoyance, Imagining how my grandfather, shaking his beard, again takes a crucian carp out of the water! “Well, enjoy the bite, lucky grandpa! - I muttered, putting the fish tank in my backpack, And the crucian carp boycotted me! Even a cat wouldn’t understand this kind of fishing...” I walked proudly past the bush, As if my burden was not empty... And so, by chance, I asked the fisherman: “Is the fishing good? Are crucian carp biting? “It doesn’t bite at all,” the old man smiled, But what a picturesque pond, look! Well, how can you not scream from such beauty?! I like to go fishing at dawn... And you?” ABOUT THE GREEK AND THE RIVER
In a shabby khaki padded jacket, a Greek walked through the gullies to the river, He was looking for a place where crayfish hibernate, In the hope that it would be nourishing and warm, The fish knew about where their dens were, They would have told if they could Maybe even just for thank you, But the Greek was unlucky as usual.
He came to the river, saw a crayfish in the river, The Greek was not a fighter in the sense of crayfish, He didn’t dance sirtaki there for a long time, But, as an official, He called the Greek crayfish a friend, And he put his friend’s crayfish hand into the river, But then he announced the sound of the surrounding area , About five hundred decibels. Cancer, having made a “dac”, was shell-shocked by the screams - He didn’t plan to go to the Greek for dinner, He didn’t need that Greek at all, And the cancer shook his hand in response; Since then, he no longer looks for the Greek Under the shell of a human cancer, And no longer pokes his nose into the cancer in the river, Since there is no friendship between him and the cancer. I probably made a mistake,
choosing bait from the end.
He called for everything - sweetie, and FISH... But no... he didn’t swallow the worm. THE FISHERMAN IS BORN
The son shakes the bell in amusement.
Dad runs awake, swearing. He thinks the fish got caught by the bastard... In general, the bastard got the job! Why are you, you bastard, scaring me, you infection? Hit him in the head forty-two times. Well, I thought they caught a dolphin, So go, damn it, you hungry brute... The son roared and went fishing, He cut off a healthy stick in the forest. He stuck the thread and hung up the paperclip... In general, he screwed himself up. He threw it into the river, wiping his snot, Thinking, what a bastard life is! Right now I’ll catch a big fish and knock my dad on the head. The fish, however, did not want to bite. The guy thought: “I was completely stunned.” If I don’t catch anything now, I’ll throw all the worms into the pond. Then the huntsmen came up from the forest, They saw a single boy sitting, They gave the boy a Shiman spinning rod: “You leave, and everything will be namana.” The guy cast, felt the fish, pulled it, there was a damn smile on his face. “Just to get the crocodile ashore, the bit was bent too much.” He pulled out the pike, yelled, all happy, and the huntsmen walked on calmly. The boy then realized: “Fishing is nice!” He went home and explained to his father clearly: “Dad, I caught a fish for dinner. Give me a little money, dad. I’ll run to the fishing store and buy myself a spinning rod, long and straight.” So the fisherman was born. He catches fish, he gets up at first light. It’s only dawn, and he’s already on the river, dragging around a fish, a big one, a smaller one. People, take your kids fishing. They catch bleak, who cares about it? Look, they will be fishermen someday!!! Let there be MORE of “our brother”!!! I didn’t go fishing,
the insidious flu brought me down.
I’m sitting, sad in a rocking chair, and glued to the TV. My friend left alone for the “point”, And late in the evening there was a call. It was so hot that I couldn’t bring all the fish alone. I brought roaches, ides and pike! I caught a rare burbot there. I will curse the cold, bitch, Because my friend was alone. But fishermen know the stories, I know this pond. There are no schools of burbot there, I have caught roach on it more than once. THEY SEWED MY TORPEDO FROM FISHING
Friends are coming, rattling bottles, Each one carries five of them with him.
The cheerful swearing is spread all over, So fenced, multi-story. Two thin fishing rods for three, for two years already with a store tag. I hid when I saw them and became quiet. Then, as luck would have it, Zinka shouts from the balcony: “Hey, why are you sitting in the bushes? What, there's nowhere to shit? Well, let’s go home, Narzan has warmed us up!” The doctor told me to take some water. Well, he came out of hiding, what the hell to do... Seeing his friends: “Kolka, just like that!” Shall we go to the pond after lunch? No, guys, I’m no longer a fisherman, They sewed up my “torpedo” from fishing... Friends are in business, relatives are in worries
Everyone’s life is growing and strengthening, And I’m by the river in wet boots lapping up diluted alcohol My wife Klava is vomiting in three shifts And on me - hisses like a goose, And I indulge in effeminate morals By a quiet river Here a carp the size of a Hummer walks, A float jumped in the waves, And I, putting my mug aside, froze And dipped my mobile phone in the juice... Georges took out a loan and walks important, Vladimir has become mossy in stumps in traffic jams, Burn you multi-storey world - With gas-gasoline fire!.. Sergei is completing the bathhouse Artem took his wife's dokha, And I - by the river, I'm drinking alcohol And I'm cooking fish soup on the fire!
A car in the shade of a pine tree Chewing oats with a sidelight, And I am happy and “ready” And there is no one for three hundred miles Above the reeds, dragonflies are chirping And mosquitoes are knocking from the shoulder, And let things be like roses in a jar They hang around a little longer. THERE IS NO REQUIRED SCALE
They eat together for fishing In anticipation of the catch Taking two hundred grams on their chests The fishermen are poisoning their tales The interior of the car is cramped There is no the required scope To measure the values By hand and just with a wave The way out was quickly found Glasses in the doors were lowered “Rakes” put out the window By the impudence blocked half the road in one This “crab” didn’t swim for long The road surface cut off his “claws” An oncoming SUV
In the river the fish floated up with their bellies up
And the “fish inspection” arrested me, And they accused me of “malicious poaching” Because I had socks in the river washed.
PANDER
Here's a classic, fast retrieve, From shallow water and down into the depths, From a two-seater rubber boat, I lead the Vibrotail with a step.
And in the fog of the rising sun, the dim light is reflected by the river, through the form into my palm the long-awaited blow of the pike perch is given. The thread cuts cold water. The friction clutch dampens the jerk again. Furious, back to freedom, He tries to break out again. With repeatedly tested gear, Without giving him any slack, No, not a fish - a fisherman's happiness, I'll pull him to my net! When going fishing, the fisherman
put on boots and a sash, a vest with a padded jacket, a raincoat, a cap... And, to be more impressive, a tailcoat!
Early in the morning, Stepan Komarov went fishing without pants, didn’t catch anything since the spinning rod broke... But at least he fed the mosquitoes! Popadalov, while digging for worms, injured two of them with his shovel, Then a scandal happened - He ended up in the hospital... He got p@d from the worms! Popadalov, don’t you dare again Take a shovel without strong glasses... Poor thing... Took a nest of fierce snakes for a nest of worms of innocents! One fisherman from Tyumen fished with pancakes and dumplings, secretly from his wife. But there was a bite, alas - Only whales and seals... TWO FISHERMANS
A hundred-year-old man and a mustacheless guy Fished on the lake together.
The young one is empty, but the old one drags minnow after minnow. And the young man asked him: “Tell me, you got caught, but I don’t mind. How do you decide on the bait, or are you so lucky in life?” “Son, don’t talk to me about luck. When I wake up, I look at... my organ. It lies to the left - I fish for a worm, To the right - I take bloodworms with me.” And the young man replied: “Unfortunately, I’m afraid that your advice will not help. Mine has a different... direction, It’s a pestilence as soon as I wake up at first light.” And the old man laughed as if the young man’s answer amused him: “Well, if it had been like that in the morning, I wouldn’t have gone fishing.” VERSE BASED ON AN ANECDOTE WITH A BEARD
Having collected everything you need for fishing, I crumbled it into a fine vinaigrette.
She put it in her backpack and at the landfill. At the hour when dawn came, Joyful, leaving the landfill, I dreamed of one bright thought, That now my husband would definitely not trade his home for fishing. She went to bed, hugging a man’s body, The husband whispered, half asleep: Hello, She snorted peacefully. There is no turning back anyway. Not realizing what had happened, so naively believing in miracles, she dissolved in sweet languid bliss, she had half an hour to live. Loose, white sand,
Donochek is a long row.
The heart wants to jump out if the bells are ringing. You take the roach off the hook, It doesn’t want to go to the rays of day. And this is not the beginning at all - the Roaches are fiddling with the worm. The small fish rings the bell - Hurry up to the equipment, fisherman. The small fish doesn’t want to go into the cage, if you get caught, don’t shoot yourself. So from donkey to donkey, Excitement screws up to the eyebrows. But only scumbags eat worms clean. You reach the top point, Zenith will almost hire, When the bells are ringing from everywhere, When the bells are ringing from everywhere. As the beat struck clearly, Don’t waste your time; This is how an asp knows how to grab his prey. Why is it taking so long, come on, Who brought me success: The little fool grabbed Plotvitsa across his arm. He grabbed her and didn’t let her go. Looks like he ran into some bullshit. Wow, you are so greedy! - Drop it, otherwise you’ll be lost! I didn’t give up, I went through... Oh, you piece of greed! And without opening his jaw, he jumped out onto the sand. He fought and strained, he wriggled in my hand. But I still ended up in a durable nylon bag. A Trick Poem
When I'm on you, I become happy!
An outlet in My fate, so dull. Awe and hearts sinking, Semi-mystical babble, Languish in anticipation of the slightest hint, the desired movement... So sharp and deep, to the point of dizziness! So that your breath takes away, And your hands shake... And so that you have enough strength to prevent separation, To take it out carefully, If it breaks, it will be a pity... How can I live without you?! Love you...fishing! My friends and I were fishing.
We drank, ate, drank, ate, drank... We really had a rest, And we didn’t regret at all that we forgot our fishing rods at home.
1
2 3 Jokes about Winter fishing
Funny poems about Work
Funny jokes about vacation and relaxation
Cool songs about fishing and fishermen
Fishing
I came to fish at Seryogin’s dacha, the bream is the coolest in July. He lured the fish with semolina, adjusted the cages in the shallows, and fell asleep to the expected catch.
And now the fish has become cunning, Greedy, cunning, disobedient, You will never hook it with hooks, But to my vigorous porridge On our wallpaper glue it will stick so much that you can’t break it with a chisel.
Chorus: And the river runs into the distance, quietly splashing, I imagine a hundred-foot sturgeon.
It was warm, it was hot, I woke up at random, a sleepy bee was buzzing in my boot. The float went under the water, the fishing line moved to the side - Apparently, the bait, as always, did not disappoint.
I gathered my strength as best I could And let’s pull the bit, From the surge of forebodings I’m not myself. Suddenly the bit stood on end and a large fish for some reason with a human head surfaced.
I froze, trembling in my knees, and she told me: “Hello, Senya, haven’t you heard about mermaids? I am now your prey, Well, at least for the sake of decency. You shouldn’t pull the line like that, you impudent one!
I am a child of sad love - Mother Roach, Father Chapaev, And, although I swam in the river all my life, I dreamed of you, Senya, Until the last moment, Losing myself in my mermaid melancholy..."
Chorus: And the river runs into the distance, quietly splashing, I see the Chapaevs everywhere.
“... You, I know, are divorced, ignored by women’s affection, so what do you have to lose in particular? Let's crawl together along the expanse of water and dive into the pools in a fit of passion.
No taxes, no salaries, No relatives, no deputies, And fishing that no one has ever dreamed of... Well, of course, I too, Though up to the waist, but handsome, Under the tail, believe me, everything is also in the mind!
Chorus: And the river runs into the distance, quietly splashing, I’m really imagining devilry.
Then a bee bit into my leg, I woke up, thank God, I grabbed a glass, then another. No bit, no mermaid - Only me with a miserable hangover And with a swollen, itchy leg.
Whether it happened or not, Who stole my bit - The point is not that, but in teaching the children: When hunting and fishing, So that mermaids don’t wonder, Never drink vodka in the heat! Author: Sergey Trofimov
Fishing
Lots of things to do, little time, So tired of everything, so tired of everything! Tell me, Zhorik, where is our Fedya? We're going fishing today.
Fedya prepares the gear smartly, And Zhorka is the master of any drinking party, And in the process of this preparation I will check the equipment.
Fedunya and I loaded everything into the car. We were even tired and had a smoke break. We were sitting, waiting for Zhorka, and he showed up with a trailer full of excitement!
He locked up a kid from the market and seven boxes of food. Let's throw a holiday - barbecue, fish soup, Let's have a small snack so as not to get drunk.
This is what it’s all about—fishing, a picnic! Throw your belongings into your backpack, brother, and go fishing, to the river, to the fire, to go fishing!
This is what it’s all about—fishing, a picnic! Throw your belongings into your backpack, brother, and go fishing, to the river, to the fire, to go fishing!
The wind is blowing through the forest like a drunk, The rain has come and is pouring down, We are sitting in the tent and drinking vodka, All for fishing, and for the weather.
By morning it will disperse, by morning it will dissipate. The sky will soon turn pink. We weren't bored, we weren't in a hurry, But we pumped up and passed out!
Suddenly, in the middle of the night, someone wets us, Beats us and hits us hard, by the way, It’s good to scratch bruises and bumps, Let’s evacuate, brothers!
Fedka, half asleep, grabs the gun, suddenly starts shooting back, Without a fight, the Russian doesn’t give up! And not Russian - when he gets drunk!
This is what it’s all about—fishing, a picnic! Throw your belongings into your backpack, brother, and go fishing, to the river, to the fire, to go fishing!
This is what it’s all about—fishing, a picnic! Throw your belongings into your backpack, brother, and go fishing, to the river, to the fire, to go fishing!
Eh, it’s a pity they didn’t capture the rocket launchers! They fired blindly from all calibers. If only we could get to the jeep! And you can stay there for a week.
Zhorka sensibly threw a grenade, No one else saw the tent. I fired a couple of volleys from the Beretta. It’s kind of dark here, here’s to you for that!
It seems like we’ve fought back, it’s already dawn, but who understands what with a hangover? The wind blew the dry land onto us and almost ruined our entire fishing trip!
“Where is our goat?!” - Zhorka suddenly remembered. He himself is all on edge, with a double-barreled shotgun in his hands. On the battlefield after the bombing, only horns and legs remained lying.
This is what it’s all about—fishing, a picnic! Throw your belongings into your backpack, brother, and go fishing, to the river, to the fire, to go fishing!
This is what it’s all about—fishing, a picnic! Throw your belongings into your backpack, brother, and go fishing, to the river, to the fire, to go fishing! Author: Anatoly Polotno
