But we'd manage to live and still hold up our head,
Were it not for the villain who ventures to sniggle.
With his rod and his hook see him carefully rake
The bed of the river, and gallantly wading,
Arrayed in his breeches, endeavour to make
Of genuine sport but a mere masquerading.
You might think him a fool for his trouble—but look!
(And it's true, though at first it appears to be gammon)
With a horrible jerk, as he pulls up his hook,
The sportsmanlike sniggler has landed a salmon!