DOWN AT THE OLD CASTLE INN.
 ( Dedicated to the Memory of Uncle Norman.) 

 

Down yonder, we would wonder
To where the atmosphere was warm an friendly,
Down to the old Castle Inn,
There we would sit and spend many a-happy hour,
Looking' and listenin' to Folks and their chatter,
Whilst they ate and drank,
Telling' tales of the Blue Pig,
Amid billowing clouds of blue smoke,
Turnin' the cellin' orange as they wrote,
For listenin; not were they,
To the wily Winter winds,
Out yonder door,
 That blew!

Across the Moor.