By Julia Gill Parker, Colne
Rising high, no turning back, road is straight, packhorse track
Stairway to the Lad Law peak, above the vale of Trawden seek,
Haze of blue in moorland shade, valley below, hidden glade,
Pass by silent footsteps stride, only steep to stroll beside.
Far above horizon new, panoramic Pendle view,
Lands beyond from east and west, scenes of life on Pennines crest,
High o’er chimneys, mills and towns, moor and mystery abounds,
Wooden clogs and cobbled street, heritage where cultures meet.
Cross the waters, curlews sound, place of solace to be found,
Wild birds rise on thermal wave, silver wings through mist and haze,
Standing stones and weaver’s stiles, footbridge, legacy for miles,
Always home for sheep and fold, many shepherd’s tale is told.
Whisper softly, glimpse of deer, doe at sunset, evening draws near,
Days return, field and farm,
Trawden peace and tranquil calm.