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Soft Saturday

Soft Saturday a-walking

Along the footpaths down

That wind from misty wooded heights

To vintage Clevedon Town

Accompanied by birdsong

The lovers hand in hand

Pass green-hued walls of ancient rocks

That spring forth from the land

Their glimpses of Swiss Valley

From high up Strawberry Hill

Are shared with just the privileged few

Who wander through the still

'Neath secret bluebell-smothered banks

And root-uncovered trees

They descend gently to the shops

That wait their whims to please

'Cross Highdale Road, o'er stone-carved stile

Past cottage gardens neat

They trace the hidden way towards

The busy bustling street

The tile-encircled Clocktower

Stands sentinel above

And balustrades of civic pride

Bear witness to their love.




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