Bagged a brace and a arf, I did, CHARLIE; not bad for a novice like me.
Jest a bit blown about the fust two; wanted gathering up like, yer see.
A bird do look best with his 'ed on, dear boy, as a matter of taste;
And the gillies got jest a mite scoffy along of my natural 'aste.
Never arsked me no more, for some reason. But wot I would say is this here,
'ARRY's bin in this boat in his time, as in every prime lark pooty near,
And when 'ARRISON talks blooming bunkum, with hadjectives spicy and strong,
About Sport being stupid, and noisy, and vulgar; wy, 'ARRISON'S wrong!
He would rather shoot broken-down cab-horses,—so the mug tells us—than birds.
Well, they're more in his line very likely; that means, in his own chosen words,