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ON ANGLING |
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THE ANGLER'S HOME.
I have climb'd by the mountain rills,
Where summer breezes flow ; And I have lov'd the glade which gui(
Through yonder greenwood low. But mark the spot most dear to me,
And where I love to roam, It's down by streamlet side, to watch
My tidy, tidy home.
My tidy cot, its roof of straw,
Beneath yon thorn I see ; Yon thorny bush which shelter yields
My wife and children three. A lovely copsewood skirts my cot,
And waters gush with foam, In which the trout and salmon sport
Close to my tidy home.
When gentle curls and cloudy sky,
Call forth the rod and line, I leave my cot, with cheerful steps,
To cast the fly so fine. I know the precious things I leave,
While by the stream I roam ; 1 know there's loving hearts within
My tidy, tidy home. |
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