A traditional lament of the Lyke Wake Walker( to the tune of -When this bl**dy war is over)
When this bl**dy walk is over,
Oh how happy I will be.
No more endless miles of heather,
No more trudging to the sea.
No more rising in the morning,
When the world is still asleep.
To the calling of the curlew,
And the bleating of the sheep.
Let me linger in the Lion,
That's the only place for me.
Let me drink away my sorrows.
Not quite half way to the sea.
