just around the bend
where the wayward trails never end
where Truth and freedom alone transcends
that's where dreams are made and visions all wel comprehend
somewheres off that beaten track
where gravel paths and sandy trails wind back
I'm gonna count my blessings and take that gypsy trail
perhaps il find my dreams within that olde world wishing well
they stripped the tracks where stations stood
beeching was no friend no robin hood
they robbed the pastures and took the pride
of England's beauty and countrysides
il walk the winding fields of rhyme
transcend their dreams of poets vine
il search amongst the heather-ed moors
grasp the nettles lost at war
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