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.