Poetry Archives

When I go rowing on the lake,
    I long to be a man;
I’ll give my Sunday frock to have
    A callous heart like Dan.

I love the ripple of the waves
    When gliding o’er the deep,
But when I see the cruel ours,
    I close my eyes and weep;

For there are cat-fish in our lake,
    And I am filled with dread,
Lest Don should strike a pussy-fish
    Upon its tender head.

How would you like it if, some day
    An air-ship passing by,
Should flap its cruel, thoughtless oars
    And knock you in the eye?

My life would be one long regret
    If, for my pleasure vain,
I caused a harmless little fish
    An hour of needless pain.

And if Dan’s heavy oars should cause
    One little fish to die,
I’d never, never dare to look
    Smoked herring in the eye!