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A Song on the Fisher.


TUNE — "It was Sam Jones the Fisherman."

'Twas Matty Van the fisherman,
Set out from Kinderhook,
And first upon a cabbage-head
A solemn oath he took,
He'd serve the people, if they'd give
Fat offices and pay,
And money well laid up, to live
Upon a rainy day.

He had a large net in his hand,
And I tell you 'twas a sin,
The way he spread that net about,
And took the fishes in.
Old Jackson pointed out the place,
While Mat had nought to do,
But pull with right hand over left
The loaves and fishes too.

The coast of England first he tried,
And caught fat fishes there;
The Senate soon sent out for him,
But he jumped into their chair.
He spread his tackle o'er the land,
He was a fisher true,
And filled his big net to the brim,
With loaves and fishes too.

And then he crept and crawled as high
As the Presidential chair,
And still he kept a careful eye,
On the nets he threw from there.
And office-holders everywhere
Still keep these nets in view,
And as their master have a care
Of the loaves and fishes too.

But Harrison is sure to win,
And 'twill be best for Mat
To get his fishing-tackle in,
For Old Tip don't like that.


And when he steps upon the deck,
It ne'er will with him do,
To make the state a fishing smack,
To catch fish for the crew.