Heathen trails - a potter’s tale - we’re on the road - again
The heath is not, a place to dwell, when evening light descends
A traveller on the road - a distant tolling bell
Brings solace from the night my friend, so rest your weary head

Windmill sails – forgotten tales - we cross the dyke - ascend
I seek a plume from a golden goose to make the finest quill
To write of things that make no sense – of vestiges untold
They gifted us the potter’s wheel, so rest your weary head

So, rest your weary head – so, rest your weary head
No need to run – no need to hide – take charity ‘till morning light
So, rest your weary head – so, rest your weary head
The legacy of the ringing bell will save lost souls from dread
We raise a glass - we doff our cap - to the Culfrey Charity
So, rest your weary head

Behold the ‘Wild Service Tree’ – the berries on the - bush
The greyhounds on our coat of arms, provoke our wanderlust
For beyond the Barff, another world – a Roman dyke in flood
So, stranger take the Low Road, and rest your weary head

So, rest your weary head – so, rest your weary head
So, rest your weary head – so, rest your weary head
So, rest your weary head – so, rest your weary head
No need to run – no need to hide – take charity ‘till morning light
So, rest your weary head – so, rest your weary head
The legacy of the ringing bell will save lost souls from dread
We raise a glass - to Dr Smith – in the crowded ‘Chequers Tree’
We raise a glass - we doff our cap - to the Culfrey Charity
So, rest your weary head.