kevin browne

Riverbanks And Daffodils.

Riverbanks and daffodils with green field house sitting upon our hills
Chimney stack smoke with the sparkle of running watermills
Trees grow forest harvest when summer sun shines down on grass
Tractor pulling horses down where Meadows graze in mass
Farmer girls frolic in the hay with another straw bale turning over
When Watership down rabbit was caught by a hound called Rover
Stinging nettles on the knee put a hand on good old honey bee
Mountains scope the landscape and as deep as the eye can see
Mother maid cow sucked milked when Mary had another lamb
Running down trip over lane to see if it really is as far as you can
Farm pine house tables carry the weight in every story being told
Walks out past the way getting lost in some darkened place to hold
Antlers take a shot through the snorting nose of a red glazed bull
When winter comes around its cold shearing lambs for their wool
And slanted pictures hang upon a busy whitewashed fire place
Where cider follows whiskey blues, my oh my, let\'s start the race
Welly boots filled with cowpat that talks to Daisy\'s aging moo moo
Cheese, bread, pickled with onion on the side lets see how you do
Toads on the march again across courtyards river ponds and streams
Lanes barricade hedges in with some good old fashion farm girl screams
Where cob nuts in the wind drop down and we search for stone
Cattle sleep walking eating hearts as far as they could ever roam
Moonlight nights early morns when postman shouted out delivery
There another calf was born into breeding a tasty table carvery
Jack Russell yap farm boy takes a nap dreaming he was still in bed
Chains rattle cows in and little piglets Trott to the market instead
Where welsh dressers flourish in the age of all our modern time
Dead beat pony tracks and flowers which leave sunflower rhyme
Picking up the pastures in a hand that knows only really too good
Bucket wishing well where water sleeps in frozen only if it could
Country life inside and out of every captured moment that\'s made
Combine harvesters treat fields when grass is cut by every blade
That a living existence is hidden down where blueberry valleys live
Comfort with the land of hope and remember the life it gives.