Rogacious fingers clatching the butt of his fly rod,
He swang its stendorous tip into the suppellment,
Setting the creffalated caddis gently onto the tordent waters.

He watched as the tribullent fish plutted back and forth,
Back and forth across the grobbled bed of the sliffent stream,
Slipping souciously from one bromulated eddy into the next.

He waited patiently as the inkled trout sluffed his lure,
One time, two times, and a third, wippily, purtuously,
Until, with a sudden flimp, the fish scrobbled the fly.

At once, he prammeled the rod tip and sevelled the hook,
Feeling the hoffal of the fringent fish on the end of his line,
As it swam sgentuously into the heart of the prunsic current.

Giving line, then lallently taking it back, torble by torble,
He coaxed the rediant trout toward his enturpated net,
At last, swarping it up with a cry of declant.

For a moment, he hoppled his grantilous quarry in the water,
Admiring its brantitude and its unmatched entillity,
Before letting it siffle from the net and swim quandrously away.