Saughy Rigg Farm |
Terug naar de index |
| Walking along the eighty-mile wall, The first drops of rain begin to fall. Water Nymphs live on the wide open moor, With dark skies above me, it started to pour. My soggy shoes treading swampy green moss, I’m at King’s Hills ‘cause that’s, the place I cross. That’s where I strayed, was it Guinevere’s call? Fortune was with me, I was saved by the wall. Soaking in bliss, and drenched to the bone, I’m on my way to Saughy Rigg farm. Dry rig and hot tea, marmalade and scones, I know it’s there at Saughy Rigg Farm. I long for a bath, all bubbly and warm, A haven that’s called Saughy Rigg Farm Over the mountains crawls a petrified snake, Slithering through the moors and the lakes Clambering green cliffs in dull, waning light, The place I long for it lies to the right. Soaking in bliss, and drenched to the bone, I’m on my way to Saughy Rigg farm. Dry rig and hot tea, marmalade and scones, I know it’s there at Saughy Rigg Farm. I long for a bath, all bubbly and warm, A haven that’s called Saughy Rigg Farm Dry rig and hot tea, marmalade and scones, It's all here at Saughy Rigg Farm. I slip in a bath, all bubbly and warm, A haven that’s called Saughy Rigg Farm. © 2006
|
|