The Canal The weedy channel wends its way Through fields stacked high with corn and hay, From broken locks to damaged bridge, Beyond the trees, beneath the ridge - The watercourse is choked with weed Whilst bankings hide behind the reed, Abandoned stable block and house - Alone save for a passing mouse - Is in need of time and care To fix the roof and walls repair. The boats are stopped by culverts low, Not even dinghies through can row, Whilst further on the channel's drained, The way of boats is blocked and chained. Looking north no-one would know Once through those fields the canal did flow - On and on to Kendal town - Coal brought up and limestone down. Laden barges - pulled by horse - Bringing life to the watercourse - Now all that's past - it's dead and gone - A forgotten canal left to slumber on.

 

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