The Little Fish and the Fisher

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.[1]