Away from the wind that froze my bones,
Seeking shelter down the dale
In the valley of the infant Swale..
I followed the stone, the thread I held,
But found no lodging up in Keld,
By the waterfall and the old lead mine
I rambled through the evening time.
Above the moors and the miners shale,
The throaty music of the Swale;
Through a summer's evening I was led,
By the babbling tune of the riverbed.
A summer's dram, a fairy ring,
A frothy beck where the waters sing,
By the big flat stones on the river floor,
I met an old man by a cottage door....
