TO THE RIVER NITH.
Hail, gentle stream! for ever dear
Thy rudest murmurs to my ear!
Turn from thy banks, though far I rove,
The slave of poverty and love,
Ne'er shall thy bard, wher'ere he be,
Without a sigh remember thee!
For there my infant years began,
And there my happiest minutes ran ;
And there to love and friendship true,
The blossoms of affection grew.
Blyth on thy banks, thou sweeted stream,
That ever nurs❜d a poet's dream!
(If youth could sanctify a crime,)
With hazel rod, and fraudful fly,
Ensnared thy unsuspecting fry;
In pairs have dragg'd them from their den,
Till chas'd by lurking fishermen,
Away I've flown as fleet as wind,
My lagging followers far behind ;
And when the vain pursuit was o'er,
Returned successful as before.
THE TROUT CATCHER.
Mark the angler's watchful eye
Mark the prudent well-form'd fly,
Trembling here and there about,
'Tis to catch the speckled trout.
Mark the anxious, cautious tread,
Verging near the weedy bed
Mark the line, now in, now out,
'Tis to trap the speckled trout.
Mark the sportsman's joy and fears,
As the wish'd-for prey appears ;
Mark the look 'twixt hope and doubt,
Ere is caught the speckled trout.
Mark the angler's wrapt delight,
As the victim marks his bite;
Now resounds the conjuror's shout,
Now is caught the speckled trout.
THE LOVES OF THE SHELL FISHES.
TUNE.-"The Cork Leg."
A Crab there was a dashing young blade,
And he was in love with a lobster maid;
But the lobster maid was a terrible prude,
And she told her mamma that the crab was rude.
Said her dear mamma, pray what did he do?
Did he give you a kiss or a billet doux ?
Oh, no, says she with a toss of her head,
But he jogles me so, 'tis so shocking ill bred.
I vow if he still persists in his suit,
I'll box the ears of the impudent brute;
But an oister dandy saw the maid,
Oh, split me says he if I'm afraid.
So tighter he braced his corset shell,
And strutted away with a broadway swell,
And he told the maid as he twirl'd his seal,
He'd die at her feet if a dandy could kneel.
Ri too ral, &c.
Oh, sir, said she, since that can't be,
You know you can hang yourself on a tree;
And the oister rav'd, but no said she,
You never shall die of scorn for me.
So she gave him her ruby red hand to kiss,
And he felt like a fish in a sea of bliss ;
But the crab he cock'd his hat in their faces,
And challenged the oister to fight at two paces.
Ri too ral, &c.
The ground was mark'd and they took their stand,
And a Barnacle gave the word of command;
They took their aim, and the oister fell,
But, alas! the worst of the tale's to tell.
A giddy young muscle just passed that way,
And saw the end of the fatal affray ;
He declared the lobster's love was sham,
For he'd just seen her married that night to a clam.
Come rouse brother sportsman the clock has struck four,
Let your tackle be stout, see of baits that you've store,
Worms, maggots, or flies, as the season turns out,
To tempt and to capture, pike perch, carp, or trout.
From Hockley, we down to the Furnace-pool stroll,
At Benson's, or perhaps, at the slitting-mill troll :
The lakes having scour'd, if indifferent our luck,
We quit the Broadwaters and haste to the brook.
The morning is fair-serene the air,
The fields around look gay;
South-west the wind-the fish you'll find,
Will freely bite this day.
And a fishing we will go.
O'er hedge and ditch, whilst huntsmen bound,
Alare, alare, they call;
The peaceful angler steps the ground
As soft as foot can fall.
And a fishing we will go.
Eight pounds a fish we pike ensnare,
Tho' sometimes break our line; Then think on such delicious fare,
How gloriously we dine.
And a fishing we will go.
GOING OUT A FISHING.
One fine May-morn the wind was south,
When Bill Brown and I;
Resolved to make a holiday,
Our fishing skill to try:
Each had his tackle well prepar'd,
Rods, lines, and baits we took,
And tho' we'd nets to catch the fish,
We caught them-with a hook.
Oh, the angling, with worm and gentle dangling, From line and hook no fish we took
The day we went out angling!
At last we reached a pleasant pond,
And gazed with hope elate;
Cried Brown, "we ne'er shall tempt a fish,
My friend, unless we bait."
With that, he brought out bread and cheese, And ate with all his might;
And then observed, "Whate'er our luck,
At least I've got a bite.
Oh, the angling, &c.
Now Brown desirous to begin,
He gobbled in such haste;
He ate the bread, and by mistake,
Soon swallowed all the paste !
Our gentles died, and worms were scarce,
But soon we made these terms;
That as the worms would feed the fish,
Some day, we'd feed the worms.
Oh, the angling, &c.
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