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Spey Casting Fool

Quiet morning, early rise
I wipe the sleep from my eyes
On this river I shall stay
For the salmons rise of a new day

My long rod leaning under a tree
My salmon flys, where could they be?
I tip my mug to taste the tea
Tuckamoor forests, the place for me

Dark mighty waters of the Salmon pool
Enough to make me a Spey Casting Fool.
 
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