Ammon Wrigley - "Roving o'er a Moorland"

The following is a transcription of a work by Saddleworth poet Ammon Wrigley (1861-1946).

Roving o'er a Moorland

Roving o’er a moorland, singing a song,
When the heart is light and the step is strong;
Out upon the linglands far from anywhere,
You never meet the witch that men call Care.
Roving o’er a moorland, singing in May,
Trip along, skip along, life’s a holiday;
Uphill and downhill, swinging in the wind,
Till the blood’s aglow and the face red-skinned.
Roving o’er a moorland, singing in June,
With wild birds following to catch the tune;
And the hares leap up in the sun-browned grass,
And dance to the song when they hear me pass.
Roving o’er a moorland, when August brings
The bonnie brown red to the moorcock’s wings;
And a merry mate called the honey bee
Is singing in the ling all day with me.
Roving the moorlands is the life to live,
Gathering the joys and the health they give;
Oh, to be drinking of the wine filled air,
If heaven’s on earth it is surely there.

Ammon Wrigley - "Roving o'er a Moorland"

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Poetry
This page was last modified on 12 August 2018 and has been edited by Dave Pattern.

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