LITTLE LOVE A-FISHING WENT

On a hot summer day—alack the day! Little Love a-fishing went. To the “river cool,” he took his way, And there met Beauty gay,—by accident. Of knotted twine, Love made a line, For a hook a pin he bent; And this “tackle,” he thought fine, That never cost him a red cent. Beside the Platte the gleeful stripling sat, But when approaching Beauty he espied, He rose to fly—she snatched his hat; Then little Love fell down and cried. Bold Beauty plucked him from the grass And held him in her tender arms. His pouting lips she tried to kiss; This “added much” to his alarms. Ah, would I were that fisher-lad! Then Beauty gay, might have her way. What tears of joy would not I shed, Would she but snatch “my old white hat!” Would she come kindly, sweetly, kiss my fears away.