THE BULLHEAD 



When a boy begins his angling, 

 He seeks the bullhead in the deeps ; 

 How he keeps his bait a-dangling 

 Until a capture I then — he weeps. 



Weeps because the catfish cunning, 

 With spines erect, inflict a wound ; 

 The lesson one can read while running,- 

 No pleasure but with pain is found. 



There y s a certain knack in grasping 

 Must be employed, or pain may teach 

 There 's little sport in catfish clasping, 

 And no demand for flowery sj. 



The trick acquired, there *s fun in catching, 

 For bullheads flesh is firm and sweet, 

 Well worth the smart, or ugly scratching, 

 That renders angling bitter-sweet. 



