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I know a spot that is hidden far
In the wild woods' devious way;
In deep ravine, green hills between,
Where the tumbling waters play;
And just below, where, like flakes of snow,
The bubbles eddy by,
Is the home 'neath the foam
Where the speckled beauties lie.
I keep my secret locked apart
From all but a life-long chum;
And when Nature dons her gala garb,
When the summer-time is come,
We tramp through the damp
Of the marsh in hot July;
For 'tis cool near the pool
Where the speckled beauties lie.
How far from the weary world we seem
In our sequestered nook,
Where the birds sing tenor in lays of love
To the bass of the brawling brook;
And the breeze through the trees
Conjoins in with the treble high,
Making song, all day long,
Where the speckled beauties lie.
Your hand, old chum; the summer's come,
We're off to our grot of green;
And incense raise in old Walton's praise
Through my "lady" nicotine;
And then for the swish of the sweeping rod,
And the flash of the floating fly;
For we go where we know
The speckled beauties lie.
