The High And Narrow Road To Cullen

The mental pictures with me yet as if time had stood still
Of the narrow high road by the creamery that led to the Village on the hill,
I often cycled up and down that hill when I was a young boy
And young birds on the hedgerows chirped in summer in July.

In the meadows by Cullen Village on a sunny summer's day,
I could hear the crickets chirping and I could smell the new mown hay
And the farmers very busy making hay whilst the sun shone
For rain was in the forecast and the warm weather all but gone.

By the high road to Cullen Village more than half a world away
I can hear the blackbird chirping in the morning cold and gray
With his feathers fluffed to keep warm on bare branch of ash tree
And the roadside hedge denuded by the winds of January.

Though the years have left me looking gray the vivid memories I recall
Of the high narrow road to Cullen and it hasn't changed at all
Since the days I cycled on it more than forty years ago
The downhill run was easy but the uphill push was hard and slow.