Mysterious Doings
As once I rambled in the woods I chanced to spy amid the brake A huntsman ride his way beside A fair and passing tranquil lake; Though velvet bucks sped here and there, He let them scamper through the green— Not one smote he, but lustily He blew his horn—what could it mean? As on I strolled beside that lake, A pretty maid I chanced to see Fishing away for finny prey, Yet not a single one caught she; All round her boat the fishes leapt And gambolled to their hearts' content, Yet never a thing did the maid but sing— I wonder what on earth it meant. As later yet I roamed my way, A lovely steed neighed loud and long, And an empty boat sped all afloat Where sang a fishermaid her song; All underneath the prudent shade, Which yonder kindly willows threw, Together strayed a youth and maid— I can't explain it all, can you?
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