Explore "Fishing Song: To J. A. Froude and Tom Hughes" by Charles Kingsley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Oh, Mr. Froude, how wise and good, / To point us out this way to glory -- / They're no great shakes, those Snowdon Lakes, / And all their pounders myth and story.
Blow Snowdon! What's Lake Gwynant to Killarney, / Or spluttering Welsh to tender blarney, blarney, blarney?
So Thomas Hughes, sir, if you choose, / I'll tell you where we think of going, / To swate and far o'er cliff and scar, / Hear horns of Elfland faintly blowing; / Blow Snowdon! There's a hundred lakes to try in, / And fresh caught salmon daily, frying, frying, frying.
Geology and botany / A hundred wonders shall diskiver, / We'll flog and troll in strid and hole, / And skim the cream of lake and river, / Blow Snowdon! give me Ireland for my pennies, / Hurrah! for salmon, grilse, and -- Dennis, Dennis, Dennis!
Eversley, 1856