I met Jethro by a stile Howarth way
Knee deep in snow and soon talking.
He was old but not very and his eyes
Were full of reflected glared light.
He called me young lady at first
Then lass...I called him master then
Mister as we stood on his ground measuring.

His farm was breaking even but his
Beasts and sheep had to eat his money now
Which is the nature of things he supposed and
As we looked down the moor we saw his wife
Unplucking his frozen shirts from a line and waving
Us to tea which I wasn't going to ignore...

We talked about the Brontes and he showed
Me his copy of "Wuthering Heights" that was given
To his family all those years ago...
The kitchen danced warmly with age then...
I asked him if he thought he was rich...
He said take a good look around...
Rich or poor has no meaning if you
Are as mad as a hatter with greed or despair