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In wax jacket he sits
The collar turned up
Chin to his chest
Occasional sip from a cup
His patience is tested
As huddled he sits
N’er moving a muscle
His keen wits to pit
 
Those wily fish
In the river below
Have seen him before
And already know
He’s here on the hunt and
After their flesh
But they’re not having it
And leave him to guess
 
They hide by the reeds
Or delve to the low
They don’t want him
To have a fair go
His bite floats there
Enticing it’s true
But they’re not being caught
You’ve got to give them their due!!

 







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