Down Heathen Street I set my course

And onward past the inn;

My breast contained a happy heart,

My face a happy grin.

 

Gregory Lane came soon enough

And at a farmyard gate

A mongrel pup barked "hurry up",

Protecting his estate.

 

A pheasant blustered from the brush

And rose high in the air,

And in its rush a startled thrush

Made up a flustered pair.

 

Two grinning ponies trotted by,

Two pretty girls astride,

And as they shyly caught my eye,

Two pretty smiles I spied.

 

The winter air was crisp and fine,

With country flavours laced;

Who could but taste such vintage wine

And let it go to waste?

 

But dusk soon drew her veil of gold

And sent me hurrying home,

To leave those Hampshire lanes of old

For braver souls to roam..