Castleton

With Brashers we’re shod and gor-tex we’re clad

We sit with a pint and reflect on the day we’ve had

At St Edmunds we ponder, its beauty we adore

And gaze at the markers, of ones gone before

The crypts and the tombs, all now in neglect

The march of time, showed little respect.

Our route it is mapped, with compass in hand

Our journey begins across natures land

The wind it howls and the rain it pours

Today it’s the Dales, tomorrow the Moors.

Around Mamtor shrouds the misty veil

As relentless rain continues to hail

But safe in our garb we continue our trek

The sweat on our brow the rain down our neck

Up Cave Dale we trudge, over shadowed by Peverils

Mystic thoughts come to mind of witchcraft and devils

The villagers gather round the witch’s pyre

As flames and screams grow higher and higher

At the peak of Winnats we take a rest

Some miles to go to finish our quest

Our journey continues, pass Speedwell Cavern

Until we come to our favourite tavern.

After food and good ale, we stagger away

And ponder upon what brings the next day

The beauty of nature that brings much delight

A pleasure to behold on this twilight.

Snug in our sleeping bags, we start to doze

The rain on the canvas brings the day to a close

Our bodies now tired and legs they do ache

But now they may rest, till the morrow we wake.

                                       Copyright © 2007 Mick Coyle