Take the high road that leads into nothing.
The highland cow decides which way to go next.
Thistles thrive where the going is arduous.
Greet the stone, haunt of deer stalkers.
Make an offering of breadcrumbs where the meadow pipit lays her worm to rest,
Then the mist will close in from both sides,
The stone will turn round four times,
The world will turn with it
And no valley will be the same again.