Classic Poem

As he barked his nets in the boiling cutch,
He says to himself, says he —
A cran of herring don't fetch overmuch,
Yet, when you come in with five hundred such,
Why, then it's worth putting to sea.

But, when, in a single night, you lose,
He says to himself, says he,
The whole of your gear — there's little to choose
'Twixt bringing your boat in, and having a snooze
In the bed of the deep blue sea!