We started in the morning
Twas then we parked the car.
We trudged across the car park
It wasn’t very far.
Then slowly up the hillside
We started our ascent.
But yet again (sad to say)
It wasn’t Peny-y-ghent.
It has been our intention
To do this walk for years
But every time we set out
The damn thing disappears.
And there it was yet again
Shrouded all in mist
We didn’t give a toss this time
Because we’re permanently pissed.
Well perhaps next time we’ll achieve it
There’s always another year.
So slurp the Old Peculier
And guzzle the Black Sheep Beer.
Poem mainly by Colin but with input from Jane!
(And it was always Thursday)