 | The Ingoldsby Lyrics |  |
The Irish Fisherman.
I sat by the side of a murmuring brook,
As sad as sad mote be;
In my hand were a rod and a line and a hook,
And a newspaper on my knee.
As sad as sad mote be;
In my hand were a rod and a line and a hook,
And a newspaper on my knee.
Of Carlow the sad and sorrowful tale
I conn'd with curious eye,
When a sunlight beam displayed in the stream
A speckled trout sailing by.
I conn'd with curious eye,
When a sunlight beam displayed in the stream
A speckled trout sailing by.
But I laid down the rod, and I said to the fish,
How all the world would grin,
If in trying, small trout, to pull you out,
You should happen to pull me in!
How all the world would grin,
If in trying, small trout, to pull you out,
You should happen to pull me in!
| The Ingoldsby Lyrics | |