“Dear mother,” said a little fish,
“Is that a worm I see?
I’m very hungry, and I wish
You’d get the worm for me.”
“Sweet innocent,” the mother cried,
And started from her nook,
“That worm you see is there to hide
The sharpness of a hook.”
As I have heard, the little trout
Was young and foolish too,
And presently he ventured out
To learn what might be true.
Around about the worm he played,
With many a longing look,
And “Dear me!” to himself he said,
“I’m sure there is no hook.”
“I think I’ll give one little bite;”
And that was what he did,
And thus he died in hapless plight
By not doing as he was bid.