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SONGS, ETC. |
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'Twas then we used to roan) about,
Not tied to time or place, And fearlessly and skilfully
Hook trout, or pike, or dace ; Might dwell on fishing exploits—
Praise our dodges to the skies, And even now and then,
Isaac Walton criticise ; But dare we think of such things now ?
And echo answers, No ! As we did when we went an angling,
A long time ago. |
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Ah ! where, alas, are now
The angling evening coteries, When, free from all corroding cares,
We quaff'd our glass at ease ? Where now the jovial songster,
With his weli-remember'd tones, The fme-flavour'd London stout,
Whisky-toddy—devill'd bones ? Alas! no devill'd bones have we,
No more our clouds we blow, As we did when we went an angling,
A long time ago. |
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