A thrill of excitement runs all down my quill,
And, in spite of the water, I try to keep still.
I’m a float! I’m a float! and I’m fair on the job,
If the fishes below only give me a bob!
But then if the scaly ’un goes for that bait,
To my master the news in a crack I relate—
Yes!—no!—eh?—bravo?—“bob!”—right under I go!
But I’m drawn up again in a minute or so.
Slow but sure towards land a forced passage I make,
A big golden carp pulling well in my wake!