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ON ANGLING. 5 J
THE ANGLER'S DISTRESS.
I've lost my rod, my flies, and knife, Sav'd only fish and purse ;
Yet when I think of human life,
Thank Heaven it is no worse.
My friend was sickly, poor, and old, Was peevish, blind, and crippled ;
My wife was ugly and a scold. I rather think she tippled.
My rod was plastic, straight, and true,
In angling gave me pleasure ; I shouldn't care for t'other too, If I had sav'd this treasure. Axminster. 1810.
To angle I went to the drains
Which runs from the north to the south, I caught a fine pike for my pains,
I felt my poor thumb in his mouth.
I stamp'd, and I roar'd, and there camt A nymph who releas'd me from pain,
I gladly relinquished my game, And never have angled again.