| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
ON ANGLING. |
||
|
Of beast and bird,
Enough we've heard, By crack as loud as thunder ;
So now they dish
A monster Fish, For those that bite at wonders.
The sullion wench
Did catch a Tench, Fatter than Berkshire hogs, Sir.
Which, pretty soul,
Had made his hole Snug shelt'd by some logs, Sir.
Sans water He
Had liv'd, d'ye see, Beneath these roots of wood, Sir,
And there, alack !
Flat on his back, Had lain since Noah's flood, Sir.
Now he's in stew,
For public gout, And fed with lettuce-coss, Sir,
In hopes the town
Will gulp him down, With good humbugging sauce, Sir.
Nim |
||