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Show FISH1NC. dt ira aii Pawcitt. Tho bii;: white sail goes down ot last; 1 ho bust is Btill; the anchor', cast. I'm ploascd enough to tbink wu'vo ftund Our journey's end the fiihing ground Tho sun's grown warm, I'm forced to state; 0 dear! what horrid slimy bai'.I Poor things! how very glad 1 am 1 wasn't born a soft-tliell clam! So down my hook drops, baited wall; I hope it has a tempting smell. To ait hre long and calcli no fish Decidedly is not my wish! "What! you've caught one bo noon, Dapa? How very fortunate you are! The boatman, too, has just caught oho, It's dow my turn to have somu fun. 0 pshaw ! you've each got one more nowl ' Let me sit forward, at tho how; 1 don't ace what I do amiss That luck should pass mo by like this I It's too tormenting, is it not? I never know the sun so hot I AnJ, O my goodnessl.only lookl The bait's beon taken from my hook! AN EOUa ATTKBWARD. Still, here I sit, do3pairinp quite: I've not yet bad a siuglo Dito i Not ono is mine from all that mass Of black-fish, and four precious bawl If only ono Ileh would sgroo To have compassion on poor mo! ! No matter by whose hook he crae, I 'Twould have to hurt him all tho same. |