200 FISHING GOSSIP. 



A LAY OF THE LEA. 



I'M an old man now, 



Stiff limb and frosty pow, 



But stooping o'er my nickering fire, in the winter 

 weather, 



I behold a vision 



Of a time elysian, 

 And I cast my crutch away, and I snap my tether ! 



Up i' the early morning, 



Sleepy pleasures scorning, 

 Rod in hand and creel on back, I'm away, away ! 



Not a care to vex me 



Nor a fear perplex me 

 Blithe as any bird that pipes in the merry May. 



the Enfield meadows, 



Dappled with soft shadows ! 

 the leafy Enfield lanes, odorous of May blossom ! 



the lapsing river, 



Lea, beloved for ever, 

 AVith the rosy morning light mirrored on its bosom ! 



