58 LONDON ANGLER'S BOOK, 



Neither wished for a pause, 



In his throat the Perch stuck, while the otter's teeth rattle. 

 'Twas on, &c. 



6. 



Nearly choked, the old otter flew he knew not where, 

 He climbed up the bank which I was then nearing, 

 He lay down exhausted, but dreadful his stare, 

 When he saw the keen spear of my fly rod uprearing, 

 Foul traitor, said I, 

 'Tis now you must die, 



In his old poaching heart the spike was soon hidden ; 

 His death struggle thrust out 

 The Perch from his snout, 



Quite surprised to find from his foe to be ridden. 

 'Twas on, &c. 



7. 



Could I for a moment forbear to assist 

 This Patriot Perch that had acted so bravely, 

 So taking him up from (he ground in my fist, 

 Cried, bold heart, true Anglers can never act knavely. 

 He swam not much hurt, 

 When freed from the dirt, 



His lov'd one and kindred throng'd round him carressing, 

 And for this daring deed, 

 All fishes agreed 



To vote him their thanks along with their blessing. 

 'Twas on, &c. 



