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Down by the Pond

I’m fishing . Don’t talk, anybody, don’t come near! Can’t you see that the fish might hear? He thinks I’m playing with a piece of string; He thinks I’m another sort of funny sort of thing, But he doesn’t know I’m fishing — He doesn’t know I’m fishing . That’s what I’m doing— Fishing. No, I’m not, I’m newting . Don’t cough, anybody, don’t come by! Any small noise makes a newt feel shy. He thinks I’m a bush, or a new sort of tree; He thinks it’s somebody, but doesn’t think it’s Me, And he doesn’t know I’m newting— No, he doesn’t know I’m newting . That’s what I’m doing— Newting.