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0 SONGS, ETC. |
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A CALL.
Awake, my boys—awake, arise ! The grey light of the eastern skies
Is blushing into day ; The lark is up, and carols clear, Then, wherefore are you lingering here ? My gallant boys, away. With rod and creel, till set of sun,
O'er hill and dale we'll go ; And, ere the light shall fade in night, Full many a trout that springs to sight, Will, bleeding, quiver low.
The pebbiy streams, whose murm'ring sound Doth fill the ear and air around,
And heather bells between ; Afar the hills look blue and bright, And near the streams in golden light,
Enclose the glorious scene.
With rod and creel, &c.
Hold ! see the tiout! he plunges deep, Now rises, gives a springing leap,
And rushes down the rill ; Whirr ! whirr ! the line runs off the reel He slap-dash runs just like the de'il,
But mark ! he's got his fill.
With rod and creel, &c. |
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