Will captivate a greedy mind:
And when none bite, I praise the wise,
Whom vain alurements ne're surprise.

But yet though while I fish, I fast,
I make good fortune my repast,
And there unto my friend invite,
In whom I more then that delight:
Who is more welcome to my dish,
Then to my Angle was my fish.

As well content no prize to take
As use of taken prize to make;
For so our Lord was pleased when
He Fishers made Fishers of men;
Where (which is in no other game)
A man may fish and praise his name.

The first men that our Saviour dear
Did chuse to wait upon him here,
Blest Fishers were; and fish the last
Food was, that he on earth did taste.
I therefore strive to follow those,
Whom he to follow him hath chose.
W.B.

_Cor_. Well sung brother, you have paid your debt in good coyn, we
Anglers are all beholding to the good man that made this Song. Come
Hostis, give us more Ale and lets drink to him.