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 | The harp and plow |  |
Old Nick got up and took his spawn,
And in a thunder-peal was gone!
It fairly made the tree roots shake,
And stirred the water in the lake.
Some eel, I found, had got my line;
No longer was the tackle mine;
And as the plashing drops descended,
Waking, my homeward way I wended.
I'll go and give those FISH a warning,
Thought I, as soon as dawns the morning;
And tell them, ere it is too late,
Be careful how they take the bait.
The hook will prick them, bye and bye,
And Satan then will have a fry.
And you, good soul, for whom I write,
Think of the FISH were caught that night!
And in a thunder-peal was gone!
It fairly made the tree roots shake,
And stirred the water in the lake.
Some eel, I found, had got my line;
No longer was the tackle mine;
And as the plashing drops descended,
Waking, my homeward way I wended.
I'll go and give those FISH a warning,
Thought I, as soon as dawns the morning;
And tell them, ere it is too late,
Be careful how they take the bait.
The hook will prick them, bye and bye,
And Satan then will have a fry.
And you, good soul, for whom I write,
Think of the FISH were caught that night!
| The harp and plow | |