Il8 FISH HAWK, OR OSPREY. 



Sweeps down like lightning ! plunges with a roar 

 And bears his struggling victim to the shore. 



The long-housed fisherman beholds with joy, 

 The well-known signals of his rough employ ; 

 And, as he bears his nets and oars along, 

 Thus hails the welcome season with a song : — 



THE FISHERMAN'S HYMN. 



The osprey sails above the sound, 



The geese are gone, the gulls are flying ; 

 The herring shoals swarm thick around, 



The nets are launch'd, the boats are plying ; 

 Yo, ho, my hearts ! let's seek the deep, 



Raise high the song, and cheerly wish her, 

 Still as the bending net we sweep, 

 " God bless the fish hawk and the fisher ! " 



She brings us fish — she brings us spriug, 



Good times, fair weather, warmth, and plenty, 

 Fine store of shad, trout, herring, ling, 



Sheepshead, and drum, and old-wives dainty. 

 Yo, ho, my heart ! let's seek the deep, 

 Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her, 

 Still as the bending net we sweep, 

 "God bless the fish Lawk and the fisher ! " 



She rears her young on yonder tree, 



She leaves her faithful mate to mind 'em ; 

 Like us, for fish, she sails to sea, 



And, plunging, shews us where to find 'em. 

 Yo, ho, my hearts ! let's seek the deep, 

 Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her, 

 "While the slow bending net we sweep, 



" God bless the fish hawk and the fisher ! " 



