"One more!" he cried, "and then I'll pack,
And homeward trot to sup,"--
But as he spoke, he heard a tread,
Which caused him to look up.

Poor Timmins trembled as he gazed
Upon the stranger's face;
For cut purse! robber! all too plain,
His eye could therein trace.

"Them's werry handsome boots o' yourn,"
The ruffian smiling cried,
"Jist draw your trotters out--my pal--
And we'll swop tiles, besides."

"That coat too, is a pretty fit--
Don't tremble so--for I
Von't rob you of a single fish,
I've other fish to fry."

Poor Timmins was obliged to yield
Hat, coat, and boots--in short
He was completely stripp'd--and paid
Most dearly for his "sport."

And as he homeward went, he sigh'd--
"Farewell to stream and brook;
O! yes, they'll catch me there again
A fishing--with a hook!"