Often bite at a hook though quite guiltless of bait;
So that anglers who angry become when they roam,
Lest their tempers they lose had best leave them at home.
As to low vulgar jests, which some think wit impart,
They appear like the muck which o'erflows a mud cart.
It is strange, though a fact, that a fisherman ever,
Although skilful he be, and remarkably clever,
Will be forced to confess, when by questions he's crossed,
That the largest of fish in its landing was lost.
Yes, 'tis always the best 'mong a number will stray,