It used to be it was just a bunch of salty old fishermen that went down there and fished from the bank.

There aren't as many developed facilities in terms of picnic areas and that kind of thing, but it gets fished pretty heavily.

The fisher droppeth his net in the stream, And a hundred streams are the same as one; And the maiden dreameth her love-lit dream; And what is it all, when all is done? The net of the fisher the burden breaks, And always the dreaming the dreamer wakes.

Never a fishermen need there be If fishes could hear as well as see.

A fisherman's walk: three steps and overboard.

Can the fish love the fisherman? [Lat., Piscatorem piscis amare potest?]