Explore the well-worn tracks leading to the mines
The stone-arched gateways to the shafts
The ruined smelt mills and the tips,
Remnants from a bygone time

Say a little thank you to the men who built and trod these paths
For their lives were often short and their work was hard
Imagine you can hear them sing as they wind on through the hills
And hear their clogs against the stones echo down the gylls

Look down, now the only sound the water as it rushes
Look up to the heather moor and the hillside hushes

Mini squadrons of cackling grouse fly off everywhere
Where once the lead was teased from underground
Now it's fired into the air

We go way back
To bits of boys

We shook hands
He crushed his can
So I crushed mine

We walked
We biked just like we used to
He's done well, we both have
In our different ways

Some things we didn't need to say
It was there
Funny slightly scary he remembers
Stuff I had forgot

Oh my god
He knows me better than
I know myself

Big wide gaps we strode across
Filled them up in seconds flat

Left me feeling good
There's no substitute
For a friend like that

You write of apple picking, carborundum wheels
Swishing scythes and landscapes full of trees
A different place, a different time
But familiarity I find in images like these

Among the downy flakes
We feel your little horse's shake
As the woods fill up with snow

Your wife stares out the window
Standing by the sink
We wonder what she really thinks
The day you move into your country home

A stranger makes an offer for your trees
To sell for profit in the Christmas city
Three cents each is far too low, we agree
So they may stay and he can go

What unexpected face was that
She's sure she saw one winter night?
Alighting from the pony trap
She seeks him out by lantern light

Conversations written down
Stories from your time you tell
Glimpses, snapshots, daily life
Atmosphere conveyed so well

Dinosaurs roam the land
Gathering grain while they can
Roaring beeping bellowing dust
While the weather holds they must

Big wheels rushing to and fro
Trailers to the store on tow
Keep it going rush and tear
While there's still an ear out there

Darkness comes but they don't stop
If they can they'll get the lot
Tomorrow may return the rain
Back to playing the waiting game

There is a vicar from Chelsea
Who alas is not very wealthy
Often he dines on communion wine
And curried bat from the belfry

He lights a lot of incense
To hide his flatulence
He gets a bit high
Perhaps that is why
His sermons never make sense



--The vicar gets his knickers in a twist--

The old church roof had seen better days
The pressing need was a serious fund-raise
So the vicar abseiled down the tower
As the village watched by the graves and flowers

With a flurry his cassock flew up in the air
Shocking pink he wore under there
Flapping around it covered his face
As he dangled there in embarrassed disgrace

Someone called the fire brigade
A turntable ladder came to his aid
When at last they got him down
Humbled and grateful he kissed the ground

Distraught the vicar wore a frown-
The churchyard wall had fallen down

Well he could devoutly pray
But not a single brick could lay

Fred said don't you worry, not at all-
We don't need a churchyard wall

Think about it now, he grinned
Those within can't get out,
And those without don't want in

The churchyard was nearly full up
Just one vacant, desirable plot
When a hand-written sign appeared,
It's message to all crystal clear

This plot take note I've reserved it
For one in the parish who wholly deserves it
All Ten Commandments he has observed
And faithfully his community served
So here shall lie at the end of his life
Fred the cobbler and Gracie his wife

As word got round the village saw red
To a parish meeting they summoned old Fred
There are others who wish to lay there too
This plot does not belong to you

Finally all the arguments stopped
It was first come first served for the last plot
So Fred quit the pills, became very ill
And what he wanted he got