Valley of the Kings

A cold, dark night, December time

The Geordie Stephenson was closing down

Finish ya drinks, was shouted three times

The bell was ringing behind the bar

‘Gannin’ for chips, before ya bus’

‘Don’t think I have time’

‘Divvent worry man, ye will catch it nay fuss’

‘Aye, but it’s a three mile walk back to mine’

So out of the doors, into the air

Breathing a mist, to prove life was there

Sure enough, before my eyes

The last bus went flying, oh what a surprise

Looked in the chippy, a seven man queue

Decided to start the three mile now due

Slipping and sliding my way through the night

Next time I leave early, I will! Aye, right

Two miles down the way, there is a pit heap

And a Peel Tower hidden in a farm

Perched at the top, so home could be seen

Well, the roof could, in the moon’s gleam

Heading on down, silhouetted by snow

Another was climbing the bank

One step forward, another two back

The man determined but not on the go

Reaching his side I asked how he was

‘Am fine, I will climb up this thing’

If it kills me, I will be here in the morning

Are ye gannin home to the Ford

‘Whey Im gannin to the Ford

It’s a place I love, and call home

Ah ye belong to the Valley of Kings

Never let that thought start to roam