A Day On The Tamar
Good Mr Ford a fisher was
Who loved to catch the trout;
With Mr Bridge, on Tamar's bank,
He came to pull them out.
The Dartmoor streams he knew full well,
And whipped the pools with vigour,
But though he'd taken many a score,
He longed to take a bigger.
Said Mr Ford: " Yes, Dartmoor's good,
I don't wish to defame her,
But there the fish are very shy
Whilst here the trout are Tamar. "
Together thus they worked away;
But did not get a rise,
Except indeed the blisterings
Of gnats and stinging flies.
At lazy noon they sought the shade
And sat at their repast.
Said Mr Ford to Mr Bridge
" We've got a bite at last! "
Said Mr Bridge to Mr Ford
" We must try something new,
Come let us make the claret fly,
Set off with smoky blue. "
Said Mr Ford to Mr Bridge
" I haven't seen a fin,
I think I'll find another top
And see if I can spin. "
Then for a brace of hours more
Those fishers flung the fly,
Till Mr F. caught Mr B.
And hooked him in the eye.
" Oh Hooker injudicious! "
Cried writhing Mr B.
" If this is what you joking call,
The point I cannot see. "
Then Mr Ford threw down his rod,
And loudly cried " Alack! "
" You see one really cannot help
What's done behind one's back. "
Then groaning Mr B. replied,
" Oh, what a dreadful smart!
'Tis all my eye to say that this
Is such a gentle art " —
" Those ladies who like piercing eyes
This may suit ... and all such;
To my mind this drop-fly of yours
Had had a drop too much. "
Cried Mr Ford to Mr Bridge
" If once of this you're rid
I vow I never will again
Try fishing on that Lyd. "
Now not far off the river's brink
The doctor hurried by,
And pulling out his lancet sharp
He soon unhooked that eye.
Then spake the doctor solemnly,
" No mischief I descry,
This casting line, it might have left
A sad cast in his eye. "
" Oh! dear, " cried Mr Ford distrest,
That hook is in me still,
Though Mr Bridge has lost his pain
I really feel quite ill. "
But Mr Bridge, he laughed aloud,
" Don't blame your want of art;
'Twas all that showy fly of yours;
I felt it very smart. "
Who loved to catch the trout;
With Mr Bridge, on Tamar's bank,
He came to pull them out.
The Dartmoor streams he knew full well,
And whipped the pools with vigour,
But though he'd taken many a score,
He longed to take a bigger.
Said Mr Ford: " Yes, Dartmoor's good,
I don't wish to defame her,
But there the fish are very shy
Whilst here the trout are Tamar. "
Together thus they worked away;
But did not get a rise,
Except indeed the blisterings
Of gnats and stinging flies.
At lazy noon they sought the shade
And sat at their repast.
Said Mr Ford to Mr Bridge
" We've got a bite at last! "
Said Mr Bridge to Mr Ford
" We must try something new,
Come let us make the claret fly,
Set off with smoky blue. "
Said Mr Ford to Mr Bridge
" I haven't seen a fin,
I think I'll find another top
And see if I can spin. "
Then for a brace of hours more
Those fishers flung the fly,
Till Mr F. caught Mr B.
And hooked him in the eye.
" Oh Hooker injudicious! "
Cried writhing Mr B.
" If this is what you joking call,
The point I cannot see. "
Then Mr Ford threw down his rod,
And loudly cried " Alack! "
" You see one really cannot help
What's done behind one's back. "
Then groaning Mr B. replied,
" Oh, what a dreadful smart!
'Tis all my eye to say that this
Is such a gentle art " —
" Those ladies who like piercing eyes
This may suit ... and all such;
To my mind this drop-fly of yours
Had had a drop too much. "
Cried Mr Ford to Mr Bridge
" If once of this you're rid
I vow I never will again
Try fishing on that Lyd. "
Now not far off the river's brink
The doctor hurried by,
And pulling out his lancet sharp
He soon unhooked that eye.
Then spake the doctor solemnly,
" No mischief I descry,
This casting line, it might have left
A sad cast in his eye. "
" Oh! dear, " cried Mr Ford distrest,
That hook is in me still,
Though Mr Bridge has lost his pain
I really feel quite ill. "
But Mr Bridge, he laughed aloud,
" Don't blame your want of art;
'Twas all that showy fly of yours;
I felt it very smart. "
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.