JOURNEY TO THE END OF THE COUNTRY

Wisps of wind push us down,

The winding roads of English towns,

Memories of a muddy past,

Childish things that will always last,

A Celtic coast line built for two,

New times to cherish,

New truths too true,

And if I only had one wish,

To calm my infant soul so blue,

I’d tell him that the pain won’t last,

It will but be a muddy past.

  
  

 

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