In a path that's devoted to towing!
I have tried all the water for miles,
Till I'm weary of dipping and casting,
And hungry and faint—
Let the Fancy just paint
What it is, without Fish, to be Fasting!
And the rain drizzles down very fast,
While my dinner-time sounds from a far bell—
So, wet to the skin,
I'll e'en back to my inn,