Comments about Robert Fitzjohn
The rambler set off from the village inn
And off down the road he went.
He turned on to a part through fern and whin,
Then by along fence he leant.
Now over a stile, and into a field,
And close to a hedgerow he kept.
The sun shone down, and his eyes he did shield;
By now he was looking windswept.
Over a stile, and down a footpath;
Through farmyard, and past an old yew.
Past a huge hollow rock called, "The Devil's Bath,"
Where, strongly, a north wind blew.
Over the hills and along the fells,
'Cross streams that were so...