Along the footrill by the Manor House of Dowles
Mary and I spent a day in Wyre
We said we could walk miles and miles and never tire
The ground was soft with leafy mould
It was an April day and cold
We saw the dipper bobbing on his stone
In the brook that strolls and rushes
Over flat stones and by low bushes
One picture remains with me
A group of black twigged bushes stood
Crowned with a white cloud of sloe in bloom
A pristine froth of small buds and blossoms
Made whiter by the dull day and dark wood
Written by Nell Tansley (Auntie Nell) about a walk in the forest with her friend Mary Beard
Mary and I spent a day in Wyre
We said we could walk miles and miles and never tire
The ground was soft with leafy mould
It was an April day and cold
We saw the dipper bobbing on his stone
In the brook that strolls and rushes
Over flat stones and by low bushes
One picture remains with me
A group of black twigged bushes stood
Crowned with a white cloud of sloe in bloom
A pristine froth of small buds and blossoms
Made whiter by the dull day and dark wood
Written by Nell Tansley (Auntie Nell) about a walk in the forest with her friend Mary Beard