Thank you, Thank you, little Parr
for leaping on my maggot
with the recklessness of youth,
in truth I was fishing for a grayling or a trout,
when I trotted out my waggler down the river.
When I hooked you I mistook you
for a minnow.
Then I held you, said hello,
returned you to the rushing flow-
Now, I shall name you SALMON.
Salmon’s what your parents were,
and Salmon you shall be
so when I chant the litany
of all the species I have caught,
after the golden red-finned Rudd
there you will be.
I have caught a Salmon.
I’ll hope that no-one ever asks
“How big was it?”
my little Parr,
will be our