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18 SONGS, ETC. |
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Then BrowD climbed up a willow tree
And left me in the lurch ; Says he, "As mine's a new fly rod,
Why, here I'll take my perch; And tho' no nibble we should get,
For fate oft disappoints ; I'm sure we sha'nt a dinner want,
3Iy rod has seven joints.
Oh. the angling, &e.
And there we fish'd from rise of sun
Until it ceased to shine ; Sometimes we both troll'd out a verse,,
.Sometimes troll'd out a line: A grinning countryman came up,
Said he. "In vain you zeek Vor vish in that here pond, good zur,
'Twar only dug last week.
Oh, the angling, &c.
"There beadt no vish ! " the bumpkin criedr.
"Except some water rats, But since you corned, the pond may boast,
A pretty brace ofjlats :" I'd ask those folks who jeer at us,
And seem of self so fond ; How they would catch a dish of rish,
What was not in the pond ?
Oh, the angling, &c. |
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