Great Are The Piths

There's a rumour that there are lions in snowdonia

If you hop skip bump, you can make them jump

There's a rumour about to start that loch ness was an import

It travelled from the sea via sky and air

It tried to battle with the mountains

But they burst its heart and it bled into a hole

Apparently there's a mist in a wood somewhere

It never leaves even in the arid sun

Its purpose is to get noticed

And to moisten the imagination

The lichen and the moss took a liking to it

It hangs beneath the willow who shouldn't really be there

This is no place for a weeper

There's a brook that you can drink from

It's supposed to make you wealthy

But if all else fails

It'll make you healthy

It'll charm you healthy