The New Season ( by Raymond Bisset ) 2010
Gosh! The water doon here, it’s lookin’ sae bra’,
Swalt in the hills wi’ a puckle o’ sna’,
Jist waitin’ for fishers aroon’ Inverurie,
Dress’d in waders, big socks and a muckle great tourie,
Tae cast in their lures wi’ the earnest intention
O catchin’ a fish wi’ sic human invention.
Their spirits are up an’ their hopes are real high,
That fish in abundance will swallie their fly,
For there’s naething tae beat the real thrill o’ a fish,
A twenty plus pounder’s a real fisher’s wish,
So it’s oot with the rod, an’ the reel an’ the line,
Tae pursue this ambition some wid class as divine.
There’s a fair puckle loons thit can cast a guid flee,
Oot ontae the waater – or stuck up a tree!
Some are pairt o’ a club, Inverurie AA,
That’s the reason we’re staunin aroon here the day,
Fou we’re gaither’t doon here on the banks of the river,
Tae listen tae Graham as his prayer he deliver.
Noo, there’s Peter an’ Brian, an’ Steven an’ Sam,
George, Gordon, Jim, Colin, they’ll aa’ taak a dram,
File gossipin’ oan’ ‘boot the monsters they’ve hook’d,
Aye – bit sometimes the real truth they dee overlook,
For they’re fishers, ye see, wi’ a host o’ guid stories
O’ battles wi’ fish an’ some ither past glories.
Bit awa’ fae their stories they work as a team,
Tae nurture an’ nourish the game angler’s dream,
O’ fishin a river that’s crystal an’ clear
Fae man-made pollution, focht year efter year,
An’ they also maak efforts tae bring tae the fore,
An interest in fishin’ – for youngsters galore.
So tae aa’ buddin’ fishers thit staun’ here the day,
I wish ye tight lines as ye gang on yir way,
Guid luck on yir visit tae Ury or Don,
An’ as for these monsters, just bring them richt on,
So come end o’ October, fin rods are put bye,
Ye’ve enjoy’d a guid season wi’ catches richt high.
