I love the people who take the time and spend the money to go to the fly-in lodges.  The more people who do that, the better.   But, sometimes after being around the tourists for a while , I shake my head.

The Tourist  (B, capo up 4)   ©Dave Hadfield

He comes from Minneapolis, Chicago, or New York,                G
Feels a little crowded so he makes his way up north,               C    G
Steps down off the floatplane, unloads on the dock;                 C   G   Em
Sees the world around him, and it’s lake and trees and rock     D   C  D  G

Yeah he’s a  tourist — sometimes obnoxious,                      C    G
And there are days I prefer the trees,                                D   G  G7
But when infrequent, I am insolvent.                                C   G  Em
I hope the tourist likes what he sees.                                D     G

He’s brought along a tackle box as big as my first car;
13 different fishing rods and spoons and jigs galore.
He’s even brought a video, and a walleye-fishing book.
It’d be unkind to tell him all you need here is a hook.

He’s known to get quite thirsty; he’s known to get quite dry.
He only touches water, when it’s mixed-in with his rye,
But we don’t need him sober — there’d be too much to lose,
We’d just hire a Cessna to haul the extra booze.


He’s come to catch a pickerel; he’s come to catch a pike.
He’s come to catch a laker, or anything he likes.
We hear all of his stories — how hard the fish have fought,
But the biggest fish around here is him and he’s been caught.
We’ve got antlers over doorways, got a muskie on the wall,
And mounted in the corner there’s a grizzly eight feet tall.
It’s taxidermic heaven — we can’t afford to stop;
We spread this fertilizer just to get a decent crop.

[Chorus and end]

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