Page:Songs compleat, pleasant and divertive (Wit and mirth or, Pills to purge melancholy).djvu/286

OF all the World's Enjoyments,
  That ever valu'd were;
There's none of our Employments,
  With Fishing can Compare:
    Some Preach, some Write,
    Some Swear, some Fight,
All Golden Lucre courting,
  But Fishing still bears off the Bell;
For Profit or for Sporting.
  Then who a Jolly Fisherman, a Fisherman will be? His Throat must wet, Just like his Net, To keep out Cold at Sea.

The Country Squire loves Running,
  A Pack of well-mouth'd Hounds;
Another fancies Gunning
  For wild Ducks in his Grounds:
    This Hunts, that Fowls,
    This Hawks, Dick Bowls,
No greater Pleasure wishing,
  But Tom that tells what Sport excells,
Gives all the Praise to Fishing,
  Then who, &c.

A good Westphalia Gammon,
  Is counted dainty Fare;
But what is't to a Salmon,
  Just taken from the Ware:
    Wheat Ears and Quailes,
    Cocks, Snipes, and Rayles;
Are priz'd while Season's lasting,
  But all must stoop to Crawfish Soop,
Or I've no skill in tasting.
  Then who, &c.

Keen Hunters always take too
  Their prey with too much pains;
Nay often break a Neck too,
  A Pennance for no Brains: