BASS! Bass! Quick, boys!– An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy fish tanks just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And sautéing like a perch in salt or lime.
“Forward, the Whitefish Brigade!”
Was there a fish dismay’d?
Not tho’ the soldier knew
Some one had blunder’d:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and fry:
Out of the valley of Depth
Rode the six haddock.
The zaniness began here.