No river flows

I wish we were on Easby Moor again

Or looking down the hill of hasty bank

The feel of scented flowers where we had lain

We closed our eyes and into bliss we sank

I wish we were near Saltburn on the sands.

I wish we were near Redcar on the coast.

The butterflies, the seagulls and the Band

Your mother liked the sea and sand the most.

Your father liked the hills and heather moors.

You were torn between them, now you’re gone

Your mother bough some honey for her store

Breathing northern air my loving one

When we got to Stamford you were low

Suburban London where no waters flow

I wish we were in Cleveland on the hills

We have to work in London for the bills.