Walking about in a weekly fashion
I nibble on my spartan rations
A bit of watercress on rye
Suffices well for such as I

And in the distance there I see
An owl has perched upon a tree
To take his rest beneath the sun
Now that his nightly work is done

Perchance I'll amble down to Kent
And find a pleasant spot to rent
At which I can on foolscap fashion
New routes for my weekly walking passion

Tis well I have these pleasant hours
To wander here amongst the bowers
With not a care, I have no worry
And that is why I never hurry