And live-bait, and worms all a-wriggle, and big ugly bunches of 'ooks.
I was a'most afraid to set down, for the things seemed all over the shop,
And Bell she kep startin' and squeakin', a-settin' me fair on the 'op;
Fust a fish as dabbed flop on her 'at, then a 'ook as got snagged in 'er skirt,
It was one blessed squork all the time, mate, though nothink much 'appened to 'urt.
Pooty spot; sort o' lake green and windin', with nice quiet "swims" all about.
Though I must say I missed the Thames gammocks, the snide comic song, and the shout.
No larks at the locks, no collisions, no landings for lotion, you know,
And, but for Miss Bell and the bottle, it might a bin jest a bit slow.
But the prog was A 1, and no kid. Though Jack stuck to his tackle like wax,