Over the hills,
Rushing by,
Stony landscape, see it fly.
Fences blurred, ground so grand.
Limestone cliffs across the land.
Sheep and birds, flocks and herds,
Many miles across we sped,
Down to sea the river led.
Craggy hills round Snowdon lie,
Reaching up into the sky.
Grey clouds scudded on breeze up high.
Rushing wind makes me cry,
As the weather bites, cold again,
Then it comes on to rain.
End of journey, time to rest.
A drink of tea or coffee, best?
A sweet hot cake, a refreshing drink.
Then into bed, in sleep, to sink.
Mallaband-Brown 