 | An angler's rambles |  |
351
THE OTTER.
I
A jolly life the otter leadsThat lurks by Eden Water;
He has nothing to do but frisk about
And take his pick of the eels and trout
That revel at dusk among the weeds,—
The dainty old thief of an otter!
II
Below the mill at Stichel Linn,I met the miller's daughter;
Her cheek it was pallid with affright;
But when she told me of a sprite
With rounding eye and demon grin,
I recognised the otter.
III
Now hie thee home, my timid girl,And dream away thy flutter!
We'll up betimes the morrow's morn,
Before the throstle heads the thorn,
Or from its nest the joking squirrel
Plays bo-peep with the otter.
IV
We'll up betimes at break of day,With hounds well versed in slaughter,—
As fleet and musical a pack
As ever cross'd the valley's track,
And splash'd and dash'd, from bank to brae,
A-hunting of the otter.
352
V
Old Druid, he's the boy to find,And as the scent grows hotter,
With chiming tongue and steaming pace
Keep up the spirit of the chase;
No abler header of the wind
Ere grappled with Sir Otter!
VI
Young Spurgy to old Druid's bellResponds with swatter, swotter;
Shaking his jowls in grim delight,
And sniffing up with all his might,
Among the perfumes of the dell,
The fragrance of the otter.
VII
We'll bring to bear the Grip and GurlAgainst the crafty plotter;
The ‘wee bit birkies,‘ Flam and Flor,
Will no' be hindmost in the splore,
And snarling Bob, the mongrel churl,
His teeth show to the otter.
VIII
Oh! little recks the oily thiefThat harries a' our waters,
Of what may be his morrow's fare,
Who goes a-prowling, here or there,
And how may come to sudden grief
The jolliest of otters!
| An angler's rambles | |