Upon The Hills of Nottingham
Upon the hills of Nottingham, where castles kiss the sky,
A tapestry of time unfolds, beneath the centuries sigh.
Stone whispers tales of Robin Hood, of arrows swift and true,
Of Maid Marian's gentle grace, her heart forever blue.
Through winding lanes and cobbled streets, the echoes softly roam,
Of craftsman's hammers, merchants' calls, and whispers whispered home.
The Trent, a silver ribbon, winds through meadows lush and green,
Reflecting sunlight, dappled leaves, a tranquil, vibrant scene
On Robin Hood's Way, the forest calls, with verdant boughs held high,
Where ancient oaks and sunlit paths, beneath the blue sky lie.
In caves where miners toiled and sang, their stories still reside,
In echoes on the cavern walls, where secrets gently hide.
And as the dusk paints shadows long, the city lights aflame,
Upon the hills of Nottingham, a whispered, timeless name.
For here, the past and present weave, a magic in the air,
A city with a beating heart, a story to declare.
So come, dear wanderer, raise your cup, and let the stories flow,
Upon the hills of Nottingham, where dreams forever grow.
Copyright ©
Gregory Golden
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