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Thousands of Miles of Walkies 







They've walked footpaths in Scotland
‘Cross England, up through Wales
Forging over hillsides
Seeking out fresh trails

In winter you will find them

With guide book on canal
Passing locks and narrowboats
Pausing where they shall
In summer it's the countryside
That makes them don their boots
Threading through quiet villages
Which lie on waymarked routes
They have some great adventures
Ne'er knowing who they'll meet
Characters a-plenty
And each one they will greet
Teasing out fresh stories
Listening to new tales
Yet more facts to gather
Their interest never fails
A thousand miles on towpaths
And winding waterways
But even more cross-country
Paced out on countless days
They've strolled down lanes in hamlets
Immersed in peaceful calm
Tramped along a bridleway
That circles lonely farm
Traversed large towns and cities
Up and down the land
Threading through the bustling streets
Directions carefully planned
On their shoulders rucksacks
With all essential gear
Just enough for overnight
And when rain clouds appear
At journey's end they're always
Discussing their next walk
There's not much they won't tackle
At distances not baulk
Near four decades of walkies
And who knows what's ahead
Just pity those poor, sorry souls
Who'd rather stay in bed.


Half-way on the Leeds-Liverpool canal, January, 19.jpg
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