REMINISCENT TALES 



Some day, may be born a sportsman 



Who at once will know my game, 

 Beat me always; and moreover, 



When, alas! at last, I'm tame, 

 Being weighed out dead, that Villain 



Oh! the shadow of the shame! 

 Oh; sad gloaming of my glory! 



Then may even change my name; 

 Or may tell his friends a fable 



How he caught me "on the fly;" 

 But I now, a simple laker, 



In advance that boast deny; 

 And if he would only meet me, 



Face to face, in water, why 

 I would give him in his gullet, 



Deep as to his lungs, the lie! 

 Not with flies am I caught often; 



Reason why, I'm far too "fly." 



74 



