Love Poem: The Mayfly Is Up On the Kennet By M.A.Meddings
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Written by: Michael Meddings

The Mayfly Is Up On the Kennet By M.A.Meddings

The Mayfly is up on  the  Kennet,
Well it’s Whitsun why wouldn’t it be?
There’s a fine downstream breeze,
And  the  fishing’s with ease,
Do come as you used to for me.

The Mayfly is up on  the  Kennet,
You ought to come down for a spot,
If you come on Tuesday,
I’ll meet you at Newbury,
The weather  they say will be  hot.

Last Friday they started at lunchtime,
Just a few duns  to  begin,
But at twenty past eight,
Yes, really that late, 
‘twas as prolific as I’d ever seen.

The large fish you lost just last season,
With the ‘Rats Cat’ you left in it’s Jaw,
Came at me this morning,
Without any warning,
And god help me, forgive me I swore.

On Wednesday Julia’s brother,
Fishing on Shermans  they say,
Got his limit by teatime 
And whilst in  the  meantime,
Julia got me as well by  the  way.

In  the  long grass out along Gunters,
With the  middle  cut Hatch at it’s side,
We made love for hours
Amidst summer flowers
And  the  fishing is useless, I tried.

The emergence will not last much longer,
One more week is  the  keepers best guess,
But I’ve enough of  the  fishing,
 for now I’m just wishing,
That Julia will wear her new dress.




She has ruined my season for ever, 
Her tempting is all plain to see,
Just because of her eyes,
And of course her fine  thighs,
There’ll be no more fishing for me.

So The Mayfly is up on  the  Kennet,
Please excuse my disdain and aversion.
For Julia’s Smile,
 has detained me awhile,
I’ve a much more enthralling diversion.

Now the  Mayfly is up on  the  Kennet,
The  emergence is all fast and hopping,
On the  Park stream today,
I got my own way,
Julia’s gone off to do her own shopping.

But as  ‘the ladies’ go dancing  at Whitsun,
Julia flashes her eyes up at me,
It is not my physique, 
That she chooses to seek,
But my Fly box, for a pattern you see.

I taught her to cast just  this season,
Her delivery is coming on fine,
She got a leash just last Tuesday,
And another on  Thursday,
Now  for  romping  she hasn’t the  time.

But now  the  Mayfly is up on  the  Kennet,
There is one thing I continually wish,
That Julia’s beguile 
Would detain  me  awhile,
And I ‘d taught her to land her own fish. 

The End