THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 191 



COK. Gome, now for your song ; for we have fed heartily. 

 Come, hostess, lay a few more sticks on the fire. And now 

 sing when you will. 



Pise. Well then, here's to you, Coridon ; and now for my 

 song. 



the gallant fisher's life, 



It is the best of any ! 

 'Tis full of pleasure, void of strife, 

 And 'tis beloved by many : 

 Other joys 

 Are but toys ; 

 Only this 

 Lawful is ; 

 For our skill 

 Breeds no ill, 

 But content and pleasure. 



In a morning up we rise 

 Ere Aurora's peeping ; 

 Drink a cup to wash our eyes ; 

 Leave the sluggard sleeping. 

 Then we go 

 To and fro 

 With our knacks 

 At our backs 

 To such streams 

 As the Thames, 

 If we have the leisure. 



When we please to walk abroad 



For our recreation, 

 In the fields is our abode, 

 Full of delectation : 



Where in a brook, 



With a hook, 



Or a lake, 



Fish we take ; 



There we sit 



For a bit, 

 Till we fish entangle. 



We have gentles in a horn, 



We have paste and worms too ; 

 We can watch both night and morn, 

 Suffer rain and storms too. 

 None do here 

 Use to swear ; 

 Oaths do fray 

 Fish away : 

 We sit still 

 And watch our quill ; 

 Fishers must not wrangle. 



