432 



RECREATION. 



v rL***. r v 





THE SONG OF THE FISHERMAN. 



SYDNEY B. CARPENDER. 



With a bent pin hook and a willow wand, 

 We steal to the long-forbidden pond, 



Where the sunfish swim, 



And the shiners swim, 



And the catfish swim, 

 Then sing : 

 " There's no such sport in our early days, 

 As to lie on the shady bank and gaze 

 At the cork as it floats in the noonday 

 rays." 



Joy for the little fisherman ! 



When the sun is hot and the water still. 

 When the gulls cry out with their voices 

 shrill, 

 When the mackerel leap, 

 And the bluefish leap, 

 And our own hearts leap, 

 Then sing : 

 " There's no such sport on land or sea, 

 On the heaving tide or by sheltered lea ;" 

 And we laugh as we fish, and shout with 

 glee. 

 Joy for the deep sea fisherman ! 



With the sun coming up, or sinking down, 

 When the foam flakes soften the dark 

 rock's frown, 

 When the waves dash on, 

 And the bass darts on, 

 And the reel spins on, 

 Then sing : 

 " There's no such sport 'mongst the finny 



host, 

 For this is the patient fisher's toast : 

 'To the striped bass along the coast !' ' 

 'Way for the 'longshore fisherman ! 



In a deep, cool pond or a running brook 

 Lie the speckled trout with watchful look. 

 With a willow rod, 

 Or a bamboo rod, 

 Or a greenheart rod, 

 We sing: 

 " There's no such sport on a summer's day, 

 When the brooklet ripples and the sun- 

 beams play, 

 When the wary trout to their young ones 

 say : 

 ' 'Way for the silent fisherman !' " 



When the years have flown and our youth 



is spent, 

 When our backs like our well worn rods 

 are bent, 

 Then our thoughts fly back, 

 And our hearts fly back, 

 And our voice comes back, 

 And we sing : 

 " There was no such sport in the whole 



broad land, 

 With silk-wound rod or the willow wand, 

 When we whipped the pool with steady 

 hand." 

 'Way for the aged fisherman! 



