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Surdly Sam

By David Downton

With acknowledgement to George Philip Rigney Pulman 1819-1890

Surdly Sam [I ban’t bound ta tull ez reyle name ] had a terrible antipathy

to all coxcuombes and sham anglers, and wadden very nice in ez talk to sitch voke. I can’t say that I’ve got much wish ta be exter- civile to ‘em myzull –

partic’ly to thease mighty knowin’ ones who be more nice about vlies than trout can be- who v’e  got sarts var every day an’ hour, and know’th to a T th’

exact shade and number of ligs and  zo  v’oth, of every vly that can show ez nose in a zun-mote. Lord deliver all real anglers vrem the wondervully cliver chaps o’ the sart !

They be var too knowin’ and slyantific ver sich as I, and I ‘spose th’ reyson why they za sildom da catch a trout ez that the said trout be too daft to understand th’ turrable larnin and knowin’ that’s a-heynde tawards ‘em, er else be too unthankful to own to it.

I be only a-minded, at present, ta gie ee a annydote of th’ wold Surdly Sam.

He was leaning auver Clap’n Bridge one fine marnin’ watching the trout, when one of thease clivver dandy gin’l’men comed on, and zes ta  Sam, zes he :-“Oh, my man, by what name do ee call ease river ?” “Caall’n ? “sez Sam,looking out under es gurt shaggy eye-brows as thof  ee’d  eyte en –“Call’n? We don’t caall’n at all, there’s no need o’et.

He da always come wi’out caallin’”