Lost Boots, Worn Memories

Lyrics

Lately I’ve been thinking that I could leave this vale, Cut back on my drinking, stop this wandering trail. Singing tunes in Lakeland pubs ‘til well past closing time, There’s something in the fellside wind that keeps me in my prime. And I never thought I’d see the day I’d whisper my goodbye — I’m not crying, that’s Westmorland in my eye. I’ll be your blue‑eyed rambler if you’ll be my mountain guide, I count a thousand Herdwicks on the slopes where I reside. I’d like to plant a rose and tuck it by a dry‑stone wall, Like a message left for strangers walking paths where curlews call. Where the Howgills rise like folded cloth beneath a silver sky — I’m not crying, that’s Westmorland in my eye. I’ve seen the storm clouds gather low and tear across the moor, The hand of heaven sweeping through the fields from door to door. Sending farmers into deeper debt and shepherds to their knees, While turbines turn like solemn clocks above the ancient trees. ’Til the becks run thin and limestone scars stand sharp and dry — I’m not crying, that’s Westmorland in my eye. Lately I’ve been thinking that I could leave this town, Cut back on my drinking, stop this running round. Playing songs ‘til after midnight, waking with the dawn, But something in the rain and stone still keeps me hanging on. And I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d say goodbye — I’m not crying, that’s Westmorland in my eye. I’m not crying, that’s Westmorland in my eye.