As our walk upon the fells began
A cool morning, gathering and overcast
A stately gentleman and a lady with a dog
We walked to the vale of Grasmere.

Trollers Hill and Simon's Seat
Dale's Way to the River Wharf
Beacons on high hills roused Ancient Britons once
The walks of early man

The fells of Lancashire and the Peak
The way of Haw Cray;
The walks of early man,
Now go down in history.

To the poet, the philosopher and the saint he writes
All things friendly and sacred,yet precious of their make;
Days of holiness, nights written of deep desire,
Self-reliance, the height and perfection of man.

His companion a loyal dog
He speaks of his own mind, man of the fells.
Telling stories of the ancients in the poems that he writes.

I find him standing firm in his own shoes
He values what he has in himself;
Not perfect, but just a man with a soul,
The walk has now become a journey of sorts.


Angels have whispered to him
On the walk that he now goes;
This is the Fellsman,
The Fellsman that I know.