Around the peaceful purple rimmed dale Watch the lonely curlew fly Where you can still see the yellow saxifrage And the stream tells of days gone by The wind from the North whispers As it blows around old chapel walls And against the millstone front of the Coop As the snow gently falls Listen carefully and you can just make out Tales from so very long ago Of people who once lived in the dale Whose lives can be seen in the snow Tales of hope and tales of fear Of terrible joy and sacred sorrow Stories of those who died long ago And those who will be born tomorrow Listen carefully to the voices Of people who once stood proud and true Their stories then can become ours And can belong to me and you The wise learn from the wondrous stories Can be warned or inspired As they can calm our restless, troubled souls Or ignite a righteous fire Let the whispers of the wise drown out Those who make deceit their art Let the quiet voices allow love to flourish In the deserts of our hearts Winter’s blanket covers the dale Hiding the purple and green below But the stories of old still blow in the wind And settle in the swirling snow Peter Sagar
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