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158 SONGS, ETC.
INVITATION TO LONDON ANGLERS.
To you, true fishers, now in town,
We rustic lads do write, And do invite you to come down,
To taste of our delight. The streams are fine, the fields are gay, And 'tis the charming month of May.
The rills are now in all their pride, Deck'd round in lovely green ;
The flies, in various colours dyed, Adorn the lovely scene.
Our fishing friends from far appear,
To welcome in the angling year.
We'll show you all our streams and meads, Our pleasant dells and springs,
And lead you to the tuneful shades, Where Philomela sings ;
Music—which hath a deeper thrill
Than city strains—the soul can fill.
We are all just like brother and brother, And this is our toast, The free angler's boast,
Success and good will to each other.