Day: March 3, 2021

Unless you’ve feet

We walk along the Pennine way some years
If farmers let the bulls out,we don’t care
I like stiles and jumping over walls
But then I’m not a man with stuff to haul
I like mountains,I like lakes and boats
I like being tickled as we float
I like sheep that follow me all day
Trying to find the perfect spot to pray
Up near Dent the sheep beg very well
They learn to knit while sitting on a Fell
In the winter Dent is somewhat cold
It feels more frosty to the very old
I’ll never go to Dent or Alston now
Unless the bull is gone and there’s a cow
I’ll never climb up Coniston Old Man
Nor meet Mary,Annie, Dave or Stan
They are in another kinder place
Where one the women made the famous lace
On the River Trent come down the Peak
Do not wear your shoes unless you’ve feet

Float through my mind like flowers

On summer days the cliff at Weybourne sang
Of finest grass entwined with tiny flowers
The butterflies were floating on the wind

We walked along contented, hand in hand
In Sheringham we saw no faces dour
On summer days the cliffs at Weybourne sang

We met no wasps nor anything that stings
The footpath was kept clear, no weeds to sour
The butterflies were resting on the wind

I looked at bluebells,insects hear their ring
So we passed with pleasure our free hours
On summer days, the cliffs at Weybourne sang

Was it for this perfection Adam sinned?
No human joy is with us very long
The butterflies were resting on the wind

On summer days the cliff at Weybourne sang
Of grass so fine and of its tiny flowers
The butterflies were floating on the wind

In winter the North wind will make beasts cower
No need for ventilation,faces glower
On summer days the cliff at Weybourne sang
The butterflies float through my mind, bright, winged


The wind blew off your hat

Salthouse St Nicholas church - aerial Norfolk | Salthouse ch… | Flickr

By Salthouse Church the wind blew off your hat
We watched it flying like an unstrung kite
Then snow fell in cold Cromer,see the map!
A cat dosed by the fire in the warm pub
Yet near Salthouse winds blew off your hat
I’d have blown off too, were I less fat
These gales would give the sailing boats a fright
By Salthouse Church the wind blew off your hat
We watched it flying up in cold sunlight