Classic Poem

Fishin' in the river, an' Jenny come along,
Apern full o' flowers, an' singin' of a song;
“Shame to ketch them fishes—cruel 'tis an' wrong!”
That wuz what she tol' me—when Jenny come along.

Fishin' pole wuz noddin'—fish a-pullin' strong;
Never had sich luck as that, when Jenny come along;
Knowed she wuz a-comin', by the blossoms roun' the place;
Water, like a lookin' glass, showin' of her face.

Wound up that 'ere tackle—let the fishin' go:
Walked with her through meadows, with daisies white as snow;
Wind a-blowin' in my face the bright locks round her brow:—
Never did like fishin' in a river, anyhow!