A Book of Nursery Songs and Rhymes/Nursery Songs/LXII. THE LITTLE FISHERMAN
There was a little fellow once,
And Harry was his name;
And many a naughty trick had he
I tell it to his shame.
He minded not his friends' advice,
But followed his own wishes;
And one most cruel trick of his
Was that of catching fishes.
His father had a little pond,
Where often Harry went;
And in this most inhumane sport,
He many an evening spent.
One day he took his hook and bait,
And hurried to the pond,
And there began the cruel game,
Of which he was so fond.
And many a little fish he caught,
And pleased was he to look,
To see them writhe in agony,
And struggle on the hook.
At last, when having caught enough,
And tired too himself,
He hastened home, intending there
To put them on the shelf.
But as he jumped to reach a dish,
To put his fishes in,
A large meat-hook, that hung close by,
Did catch him by the chin.
Poor Harry kicked and called aloud,
And screamed and cried and roared,
While from the wound the crimson blood
In dreadful torrents poured.
The maids came running, frightened much
To see him hanging there;
And soon they took him from the hook,
And set him in a chair.
The surgeon came and stopped the blood,
And up he bound his head;
And then they carried him upstairs,
And laid him on his bed.
'Oh! oh!,' said he, 'poor little fish,
What tortures they have borne;
While I, well pleased, have stood to see
Their tender bodies torn.
'But now I know how great the smart,
How terrible the pain!
As long as I can feel myself
I'll never fish again.'