|Share page||Visit Us On FB|
To awaken the milk-maid, the cock is yet crowing,
She was out late last night, with young Hodge at the fair To be milked yet the cows in the loaning are lowing,
We'll be at our sports ere young Nelly be there. The weather is prime, and the stream in good order ;
Arouse ye, then, angler^! wherever you be, In Scotland, in Ireland, in Wales, on the Border,
Fit your rods, and away to the fishing with me.
Stephen Oliver. 1834
THE ANGLER'S PROGRESS.
When I was a mere school-boy,
Ere yet I'd learn'd my book, I felt a wish for angling
In every little brook: With ozier-rod, some thread for line,
A crooked pin for hook, And thus equipp'd I angled
In every little brook.
Of Pricklebacks and Minnow?
Each day I caught a store, With Stone Loaches and Miller's Thumbs,
Those brooks afford no more ; And thus the little Angler,
With crooked pin for hook. Would shun each noisy wrangler.
To tisli the murm'riug brook,