The Langdale Pikes are fearsome to dead hens

The Langdale Pikes are   fearsome to dead hens
Whose feet are used to  engraved  golden  roads
The Langdale Pikes are fearsome unless penned
But from  the heights  you cannot see a toad.

Though mountains  can allure us like a  whore
They cast  huge shadows   onto Network Rail
You cannot tell  a  sculpture,je t’adore
Despite  the  surplus in next Winter’s  Tails

They  test  my soul  with   glue  like a quagmire
One has  to have a head  and a big ass
Sheep   prefer the  local  red-haired deer
Who rescue them when  donkeys  miss the path

Should we learn to    lose our  fear of light
From  the peak we   see all  human blight