Down the Lane from Strawberry Mills

White and silent

Lie the hills,

Down the lane from Strawberry Mills,

Silencing shouts

That echo back

Up the path to Raspberry Shack.

Up the path

To Raspberry Shack

Sits an old, old man in black.

Naming the months

And counting the days

Turning left to Blueberry Way.

Turning left

To Blueberry Way.

There a kind old woman stays,

Feeding children

That she might meet

On their way to Blackberry Street.

On their way

To Blackberry Street,

Shielding their faces from rain in sheets,

Down the valleys

And up the hills

Down the lane from Strawberry Mills.

Down the lane

From Strawberry Mills,

White and silent lie the hills.

Then the sky turns

From grey to black,

Silencing shouts that echo back.