I search across this ancient valley,

Through the mists of time to a distant shore,

Counting the scars of industrial toil,

Of abandoned mills not needed anymore.

 

This land was carved out in the Ice Age,

With huge rocky boulders at its core.

So, what we often call our heritage,

Was erected by insects, just like me,

And lasted just a mere pinprick of time;

An acne grown on this landscape sublime.

 

For millions of years this rain has fallen,

For millions of years the sun has shone,

This place will thrive when these buildings are gone.

Our time is fleeting; Happy Valley lives on!