The
pastor came across the lot,
Beside the brooklet fair;
He
was upon his way to church,
A boy was fishing there.
The
pastor stopped and rubbed his eyes,
Could scarce believe his sight;
“My
boy,” said he, “do you not know
Where little boys alight
Who
fish on Sunday?” “Yes, indeed,
They light right here,” said he;
“You
orter fetched along your pole,
And fished awhile with me.”
June
3, ‘09
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