《生得咁俏》 Lustre born
I am born so lustrous;
Need I fear that no new fish will come to my angle?
‘Twas but this morning that I held one in my hand as its tail bcat to and fro.
Now I put up my fishing-rod into its case: I use it no more.
Verily it is the finger of fate, if fish and water agree not together.
Methinks, since ocean is so vast, the fish therein are not few.
Cease your riotous leaping!
My iron net is spread;
But if this once you escape my hook, then I shall leave you to roam at large o’er the sea.