I fastened a hand-made cock-a-bundy to my hook and cast off.
The light over the lake was angel-silver, and I was in angler’s Heaven. Nearby, a dabchick plashed, and overhead, a linnet piped a tuneful threnody. I smiled to think of God’s infinite goodness, in which we mortals soak like mackerel fillets in a herb and lemon marinade.
Just then — a violent tug on my fishing line! I was yanked forward by — what? Something huge, powerful, like nothing I’d ever caught before: ‘The Catch of the Century!’ (Angling Today) ‘Local man lands monster!’ (Local Gazette).
In an instant I was skimming across the lake like a speedboat, drawn by some unknown but irresistible force. The creature — whatever it was — went lower in the water, and I followed.
But even as I sank, I still found time to pipe a threnody of my own:
Oh Lord, though now my end be nigh,
and I’ve befouled my undies,
I thank you from my angler’s heart
for hand-made cock-a-bundies.