I’ll sing of a place to my heart very dear, a place where I always would dwell
And if you would kindly lend me your ear, a few of its beauties I’ll tell …

The opening lines of a traditional folk song, Song of the Swale. I remember going to the Black Bull pub in Reeth on Saturday nights many, many years ago and the whole pub would have a singsong escorted by an elderly lady who played the piano. The Song of the Swale was always sung with absolute vigour.


Swaledale tree

Swaledale, North Yorkshire, England

One thought on “Windswept

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