The salmon are swimming upriver in the cold gray damp of the dawn
To the gravel beds of the rapids to dig out their spawning beds to spawn
November is their breeding season in the cold and wet Northern Fall
When yesterday's flood is subsiding they are answering to Nature's call.
The salmon are swimming upriver by Nature they are duty bound
They jump waterfalls on their journey to get to their high breeding ground
Their urge for to breed is upon them their numbers they must multiply
To insure the survival of their species their natural urges they cannot deny.
The salmon are swimming against the current a hundred kilometres or more
To the high gravel beds of the river that journey to the Atlantic shore
They risk the gaff and spear of the poacher so that their species will survive
And the main reason for their survival is their natural sexual drive.
The salmon upriver are swimming with the chill of late Fall in the air
Through old fields and along by hedgerows by cold winds of their foliage stripped bare
They swim on against the strong currents without even one thought of fear
Of the fate that might even await them death by the poacher's gaff or spear