Walking over baron land,
Going to Tors where they stand,
Of marsh and peaty sand,
Beware the bogs for they are deep,
Granite boulders lay about,
Where heather grows and cotton wool clouds are low,
When the wind is strong it will drive the rain,
From this source the river flows,
Down through the valley below,
To meet the sea with golden sands,
A land of myths and legends,
Tales to chill those bones,
Of Devil's footprints across this land,
A place to explore with a compass in hand.....
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