This spring season has not been great,
the bass are few and of little weight.
Worst of all there's lots of bait,
and still the bass do scant partake.
Maybe it was the cold and rain,
that gave May anglers so much pain,
and gave The Bay a brownish stain,
leaving us defeated, tired and slain.
Or maybe it's the slowing rate,
at which these bass do procreate,
because they are kept at twenty-eight,
before they are able to properly mate.
But now, alas, it is mid-June,
and soon we will have a fresh full moon.
A new set of tides to save us from ruin,
and perhaps we will look like we know what we're doin'.
So Striper Gods I plead to thee,
bring the fish to the surface to feed,
so my fly rod may once again be,
bent to bass so wild and free.