Facing the way we’ve just been, a sunny day, a winter scene. Turning around I have a choice, which way next, my friends voice. Take a left to the lake, or a right to the river. We’ll go right, he looked at me, the rivers frozen, there be nowt to see. As was, my friend, he slipped and fell into a ditch. Well that was our journeys end, for he needed home, his pride to mend. Another day we’ll have a look, I wrote down, which way in my note book.