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Furious, he sprung round and round, That dangerous trick he tried,
His tail it lashed the surface, Spray flew on every side.
His strength and stream united, My rod made creak and crack,
But, thanks to tackle perfect, I brought him, bullnecks, back.
With struggle hard exhausted,
He at the surface laid, His tail had ceased its motion,
His tins no longer played.
Near to the bank I drew him, But as he touched the ground,
His strength seemed full restored, And turning with a bound :
Up foaming surge he rushed,
With final effort brave, A moment there he struggled,
Then floated on the wave.
I think his heart was broken,
Poor fellow he was done, Broadside on the waters,
He glittered in the sun.