Home to the badger and silver backed crow
The old rushy fields where Finnow waters flow
On towards the Blackwater it winds on it's way
It never stops babbling by night and by day
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Of the fields of the rook and the streams of the brown trout
The lure of the wander did bring me far south
But Finnow's familiar babble in me does remain
And in moments of nostalgia i do hear it again...
Extraordinary piece of poetry....thanks
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Of the fields of the rook and the streams of the brown trout The lure of the wander did bring me far south But Finnow's familiar babble in me does remain And in moments of nostalgia i do hear it again... Extraordinary piece of poetry....thanks