3 NOVEMBER 1883, Page 16

IL—FISHERMEN'S SONG.

After the battle, the peace is dear, After the toil, the rest; After the storm, when the skies are clear, Fair is the Ocean's breast.

Out in the gold sunshine Throw we the net and line; The silvery chase to-day Calls us to work away, So throw the line, throw,—Yo, heave ho !

Fishers must work when the treacherous sea Smiles with a face of light, Though the deep bed, where their fortunes be, May be their grave ere night.

Oat in the gold sunshine Throw we the net and line ; The silvery lives to-day Flash in the silver spray, So throw the line, throw,—Yo, heave ho