It alluz sets me laughin', when I happens to be 'roun,'

To see a lot ob gemmen come a-fishin' frum de town:

Dey waits tell arter breakfus', 'fo' dey ebber makes a start,

An' den you sees 'em comin' in a little Jarsey kyart!

Now, Jarsey kyarts is springy, an,' to studdy up de seat,

De gemmen's 'bliged to ballus' hit wid suffin good to eat;

An' Jarsey kyarts is lighter run, de gemmen seems to think,

By totin' long a demijohn ob suffin good to drink.

When dy gits at de fishin' place, it's 'stonishin' indeed!

Such tricks to go a-fishin' wid nobody nebber seed:

Dey poles is stuck togedder wid a dozen jints ob tin,

An' has a block-an'-teeckle for to win' de fishes in!

De gemmen makes a heap o'fuss, an skeers de fishes off,

An' den dey takes an' sots de poles, some place de bank is sof,

An' den dey hunts a shady place, an' settles on de grass,

An' pruz'ntly heahs 'em: "Dat a spade? I has to pass!"

St. Petah wuz a fisherman, an' un'erstood his trade:

He sot an' watched his cork, instid ob lazin' in de shade!

De gemmen isn't copyin' arter him—dey bettah be!—

Or—I's a science fisherman—'t'd do to copy me.

When I goes out a-fishin', I puts on my ol'est clo'es:

(Dey age's putty tol'able, you'd nat'rally suppose!)

I gits up in de moh'nin', long afore de sun is riz,

An' grabbles wums, I tell you! like de yurly bird I is.

I's alluz berry 'ticlar 'bout de season ob the moon;

De dark ob hit is fishin'-time—an' time for huntin' coon;

An' den its mighty 'portant, too, as notus shed be tuk

Ob varis' little sarcumstances bearin' on de luck:

You has to spit upon de bait afore you draps it in;

Den keep yo' cork a-bobbin', des as easy as you kin;

Ef someone steps acrost de pole, you knows yo' luck is broke,

Widout dey steps it back agin afore a word is spoke.

Don't nebber, not for nuffin, think ob countin' ob yo' string;

'Kase ef you do, you ain't a-gwine to cotch anoder thing;

But ef a sarpent-doctor bug sh'd 'light upon de pole,

You knows you's good for cotchin' all de fishes in de hole.

Dah! now you has de science what a fisherman sh'd know;

So, any time yo' ready, all you has to do's to go,

An' toiler dem instruckshuns—ef you does it, to de notch,

Good marster! won't it s'prise de folks to see de mess you cotch!