A Poem for the Rye by Mattie Cunningham

Don’t turn your back on the Rye

We have a friend and from her source to her end,

She’s more classy than Itchen or Tweed.

She’s friendly and warm and bustles along, past hedges and bridges and reed.

She’s lovely and dear, but these past years she’s shed tears,

When her anglers just cast her aside,

Now she’s had some work done to her face and her bum,

So fish her, and restore her pride.

In the summer she’s low and her bones start to show,

And her lush reeds get burnt to a stalk.

But somewhere in there, the trout still have their lairs,

For you know they can’t get out and walk.

Don’t  go drive,n  for miles you’ll just end up with piles,

Instead just go down where you’re wanted.

it’s for her daughters and sons that she’s had the work done,

So fish her, and just let her flaunt it!

She’s proud of her trout, she won’t just give them out,

She’ll make you work hard for your thrill.

But when she gives up a trout don’t, take him out,

For they’re far too precious to kill.

So if during the season, so you don’t lose your reason,

You need to go casting a fly,

With a few hours to spend, go see an old friend

and don’t turn your back on the Rye.

( By Mattie Cunningham.)