Occurred at some long bygone date.

You must know that I love,

All amusements above,

To arise ere the sun

Has his day's work begun,

And roam to some river,

Who'll kindly deliver

Up his subjects to fate

For a little ground bait.

Oh! how often my slumbering dreams have been broke

By the thought I'm too late, and I've suddenly woke

To discover 'twas dark, and have dozed off again;

But the dose to repeat, hope for rest being vain.

I in fancy have fished in most curious places—

Down a coal-hole, in areas, and off cellar bases;

Where the queerest of things you can name I have caught, or

As I dropt down my line, has retreated the water.

Now that angling's a passion to me appears plain,

Which amounts to disease if a tight hold it gain;

It may oft be relieved by right treatment, perhaps,

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