And made for the mountains far inland,
With a rambler's pack and a crooked staff
And a leather bottle in my hand.
The day was hot and the road was hard
As I crossed that dusty western plain,
By the field where the hedgehog whined
By the foxgloves in the grassy lane
At the end of the day I came to the dale
Where the mountains soar and the herdwicks graze,
At Ennerdale Lake, by the green man's chair,
I came to the joining of the ways...
In the dale of the hawk and the vampire dog,
I followed the lake my feet were sore,
By the pitching screes of the Anglers Crag
Till I came to rest by a great nailed door...
I asked for bread, I asked for milk,
I sought for a place to rest my head,
At midnight heard the swish of silk
Of the ghost that walks by the travellers bed.
