DOWN THE VALLEY

The year Dorothy and I were to marry we went for this exact walk with our scruffy old dog, Max.

There's a pathway down the valley where we sometimes like to go,

A rough old path with pebbles and where nettles like to grow,

A trysting place for lovers and so for Pip and me,

A place of calm irreverence where our spirits like to be.

And in the early autumn with sunshine like a balm

We go along for blackberries on a Sunday filled with calm,

And Max runs there beside us, his doggy heart aflame,

The day a place for running and playing his old game.

He'll chase at shadows, leaping, though now he's growing old,

But still he's like a champion, noble swift and bold;

And as we revel in the sunshine like the kids we used to be

There's nothing to discourage either my lover-girl or me.

And then when hours have passed like moments in our heads

We turn and head back homewards, past allotments and their sheds;

Ah, the fruit is filled like magic with the kiss of this sunshine

And we'll capture it forever as sparkling blackberry wine.

There's a pathway down the valley where we sometimes like to go,

A rough old path with pebbles and where nettles like to grow,

A trysting place for lovers and so for Pip and me,

A place of calm irreverence where our spirits like to be.