The Delicate Heron

By the bank of a river,

A heron walked out,

And in it were sporting,

Pike, mackerel and trout.

Now these fish with great ease,

Our bird might have caught,

But I’ll wait till I’m hungry

The silly bird thought.

At last came his appetite,

“Now I’ll eat,” the bird cries,

And some tench from the bottom,

Just then he saw rise.

“But these are not good enough

At this time of day,”

And he waited for better

Till all swam away.

At eve almost starved

When all other means fail,

He was right glad to sup

On a poor little snail.