En español

Pyle Hill, by Hazel

Pyle Hill is the longest Hill in the World
When you're tired and wet and cold
When the handles have split on your plastic bags
And you can't get a proper 'hold'.
When your rucksack's piled high with bedding
Your kagul hood's slipping over your eyes
Your bootlaces have come undone
And your trousers are slipping down past your thighs.

Yes, Pyle Hill can seem neverending
Because just as you're ready to drop,
There's an extra bend you'd forgotten about
And an extra rise at the top.
There's a bit where the pavement narrows
Where you can't walk with a pack on your back
Where branches stick out from the hedgerow
To scratch you and catch you a crack.

Yes, and Pyle Hill can seem like Mount Everest
When it's icy or slushy with snow
If you've just missed a lift from the Friends' House
And how you'll make it you really don't know.
Then you're up! and walking the grass verge,
There's a fire! and women! you can see
Faces turn to look as you're shouting
"Women! Put the kettle on! It's Me!"

Yes, Pyle Hill could well be Mount Everest,
You're at the top and the view is just BLISS!
Aw no, c'mon! Pyle Hill's summit has Blue Gate!
You couldn't begin to compare Everest with this!

Published in Greenham Newsletter Winter 1989-1990

Top