(Upbeat, slightly tipsy-sounding foxtrot tempo with a prominent tuba, clarinet, and washboard) (Verse 1) Grab your rod and trusty reel, leave your worries how you feel! In Appalachia, sun shines bright, though radroaches give you a fright! Gonna do some fishin', ain't no doubt, though somethin' feels a bit clapped out! The water's glowin', quite a hue, but that won't stop me, will it you? (Chorus) Oh, fishin' in the wasteland, tra-la-la! The strangest sights you ever saw! Mutated carp with three big eyes, a-winkin' up at sunny skies! The bloatflies buzz, a pesky drone, but leave my fishin' well alone! Fishin' in the wasteland, what a spree! Hope nothin' bites that's bigger than me! (Verse 2) Got my grubs, all nice and fat, wearin' a mining helmet hat! See a mirelurk, scuttlin' near, gives this gal quite a fear! But I stand firm, don't run and hide, these fish won't catch themselves inside! Cast my line with graceful swing, hope a somethin' tasty it will bring! (Chorus) Oh, fishin' in the wasteland, tra-la-la! The strangest sights you ever saw! Mutated carp with three big eyes, a-winkin' up at sunny skies! The bloatflies buzz, a pesky drone, but leave my fishin' well alone! Fishin' in the wasteland, what a spree! Hope nothin' bites that's bigger than me! (Saxophone solo - slightly wobbly and off-key, like the player had one too many Nuka-Colas) (Bridge) Pulled up somethin', feels quite a tug! Not sure if it's a fish or a lug! It's flappin' wildly, green and slick, might need a bigger fishin' stick! Perhaps it's dinner, perhaps it's goo, well, either way, it's somethin' new! This ain't the lake by ol' Saint Lou, this fishin' life, it's somethin' true! (Chorus) Oh, fishin' in the wasteland, tra-la-la! The strangest sights you ever saw! Mutated carp with three big eyes, a-winkin' up at sunny skies! The bloatflies buzz, a pesky drone, but leave my fishin' well alone! Fishin' in the wasteland, what a spree! Hope nothin' bites that's bigger than me! (Outro) So pack your gear and come along, where everything feels slightly wrong! We'll fish all day, until it's late, just watch out for those somethin'-or-others, mate! (Band ends with a flourish, a final honk from the tuba, and a playful cymbal crash that sounds slightly like something falling apart.)
