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ON ANGLING. 7Z
SONG.
It chanc'd that an Angler, who liv'd at Cheapside, With new tackle and nice lively bait, On a fishing excursion to Putney bridge hied, And there in a punt, at the due time of tide, Expectant and watchful, he sate.
That pastime is virtue, the proverb declares, And our sportsmen gave practical proof; For though he display'd all his craftiest snares, Tho'his hooks were conceal'd, and his lines single The curs'd fish still kept swimming aloof, fjhairs.
At length he grew hungry, and weary, and wet, For the punt was both leaky and cranky ; And though he with caution each tempting bait set, Not a minnow, a roach, or an eel, could he get, For they all seem'd to say, "No I thank 'ee".
A wag on the bridge, said, "No longer contend, For you've dev'lish bad luck below, brother ; And the fault's in your rod, (for I speak as a friend) Tho' 'tis certainly true, there's a worm at one end, Fet a fool scars the fish, at the other. |
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