 | Poems by Jean Ingelow |  |
‘Syle! ay, indeed, we should be badly off,
I reckon, and so would God Almighty's gulls,’
He grumbled on in his quaint piety,
‘And all his other birds, if He should say
I will not drive my syle into the south;
The fisher folk may do without my syle,
And do without the shoals of fish it draws
To follow and feed on it.’
I reckon, and so would God Almighty's gulls,’
He grumbled on in his quaint piety,
‘And all his other birds, if He should say
I will not drive my syle into the south;
The fisher folk may do without my syle,
And do without the shoals of fish it draws
To follow and feed on it.’
| Poems by Jean Ingelow | |