A Little Fisherman

He gets up in the morning fair, just at the break of day,

Because, you see, the shining creek is very far away!

His legs are short, he cannot walk as fast as his papa,

And that is why he starts so soon to go so very far.

Hus worms he dug the day before and so has not to wait,

As sometimes careless boys will do, to go and dig the bait.

He takes a lunch beneath his arm, for boys who fishing go

Get very hungry on the pond, as all good fishers know.

So with his pole he saunters forth, his papa in the lead,

Down thro’ the woods and o’er the hill a happy boy indeed.

The creek at last! The boat is found, and off they quickly glide

To where the rocks make little roofs ‘neath which the fishes hide.

His papa has to bait his hook, which is no bended pin,

And pretty soon he feels the pull that nearly pulls him in.

“I’ve got a fish! I’ve got a fish!” excitedly he cries,

And soon a bass jumps nimbly out before his very eyes.

And thus the time goes quickly by, and when the twilight nears

A tired, hungry fisher boy at home once more appears;

A healthy, happy fisherman, imbued with wondrous tales,

Who by and by crawls off to bed mayhap to dream of whales!

Oct. 26, ‘07

  Two additional lines were crossed out:

                    O, would that every little boy a fisher boy could be

                    And saunter off o’er hill and dale to fish the same as he.