The Little Fish And The Fisher.

[1]      A little fish will grow,      If life be spared, a great;      But yet to let him go,      And for his growing wait,      May not be very wise,      As 'tis not sure your bait      Will catch him when of size.      Upon a river bank, a fisher took      A tiny troutling from his hook.      Said he, ''Twill serve to count, at least,      As the beginning of my feast;      And so I'll put it with the rest.'      This little fish, thus caught,      His clemency besought.      'What will your honour do with me?      I'm not a mouthful, as you see.      Pray let me grow to be a trout,      And then come here and fish me out.      Some alderman, who likes things nice,      Will buy me then at any price.      But now, a hundred such you'll have to fish,      To make a single good-for-nothing dish.'      'Well, well, be it so,' replied the fisher,      'My little fish, who play the preacher,      The frying-pan must be your lot,      Although, no doubt, you like it not:      I fry the fry that can be got.'      In some things, men of sense      Prefer the present to the future tense.