A red-cap sang in Bishop's wood, A lark o'er Golder's lane, As I the April pathway trod Bound west for Willesden. At foot each tiny blade grew big And taller stood to hear, And every leaf on every twig Was like a little ear.
A red-cap sang in Bishop's wood, A lark o'er Golder's lane, As I the April pathway trod Bound west for Willesden. At foot each tiny blade grew big And...
While living in Devon about a year ago, I first became acquainted with the Welsh pony and found great pleasure in riding and driving with my children through the charming lanes and by-ways of Southwestern England.
While living in Devon about a year ago, I first became acquainted with the Welsh pony and found great pleasure in riding and driving with my children ...
