Rivers Poem by Mary Champion

Rivers, like people, are varied in style
weedy like Wandle or long like the Nile.
There's many a Tone - the Danube is Blue-
Green, Yellow, Orange -and Yukon Gold too.
Rivers of letters, take Exe, Wye and Dees
and nothing's complete till we've all crossed the Tees.
Famed for their battles - the Boyne and the Axe
and man-hating Amazon armed to the max.
The Dart and the Arrow get straight to the point,
while Darling's a dreamboat who won't disappoint.
Some squawk, like the Parrett, some dig - like the Mole,
Tigris a stripy cat out on patrol.
Otter swims sleekly pursuing the Cray
-fish to dine on at supper, or maybe for Tay.
Some Ouse, very slowly, while others are Fleet,
the Ayr has a tune and the Mersey, a beat.
There's Congo and Ebro, there's Rother and Tiber,
you know Orinoco, and Calder and Niger.
Some rivers are mouthy - take Bourne, Fal and Tyne,
and one's very Volga - thinks swearing is fine.
The Po and the Looe are convenient places,
the Liffey is iffey - well that's what the Bray says.
I heard that Miss-Ouri went love struck and dippy-
got married last week and now she's Mississ-Ippi.
Tweed's very scratchy, but a must if you're shooting.
The Graveney's a dRibble that trickles through Tooting.
The Severn goes Forth from a Welsh mountain side,
while that bonnie Rhine maiden's still looking for Clyde.
Murray won WimbleDon, took every Sett -
a Hull of a day. Well Done! Worth a bet.
Old Father Thames keeps on rocking and rolling,
Jordan had implants and Avon's still calling.
This river of rhyme, could run on like a drain,
so I'll finish it now, or you'll all go in-Seine