SALMON-FISHING 



Oh i mark him rinnin' frae the tide. 



In blue and siller braw, man ; 

 The ticks upon his gawsy* side, 



Shaw him a new-rin saumon. 

 An' though he 'scape the Berwick net 



The Duke at Floors and a', man. 

 There's mony a chance remainin' yet 



To catch that bonnie saumon. 



Across the pool the fisher's flee 



Fa's licht as ony straw, man ; v 



Soops down the stream, an' synet a wee 



Hangs trem'lin' o'er the saumon. 

 A moment mair — the line is stentt — 



A rug§ — and then a draw, man ; 

 And noo the supple top-piece bent — 



He's taigledll wi' his saumon. 



Frae aff the birlingS reel the line ' 



Like lichtnin' spins awa', man ; 

 The fisher laughs, for he kens fine 



He's heuked a guidly saumon. 

 He's up — he's doun — he's here — he's there, 



Wi' mony a twist and thraw,** man ; 

 Noo deep in Tweed — noo in the air — 



My troth, a lively saumon ! 



Though strenth an' nature for a while 



Can warstlett against a', man. 

 Yet nature aft maun yield to guile 



As well in man as saumon. 

 An' sae that merry fish that rose 



To tak' that flee sae braw, man, 

 Noo sidelings sooms at its life's close 



A worn an' wearied saumon. 



Wi' ready gaff the callant stan's, 



The fish ashore to draw, man ; 

 The fisher bids him baud his ban's 



And no to hash his saumon. 

 "He's clean dune oot: gae grip the tail, 



Just whaur it tapers sma', man ; 

 And Ian' him up baith safe and hale — 



My sang ! a bonnie saumon. 

 Plamp. tTbea. tTaut. SA tu^ ||Fa«tened. SWhirrint. **Tuni. ffWrettle. 



M 81 



