Great Are The Piths

There's a rumour that there
Are lions in snowdonia
If you hop skip bump, you can make them jump
There's a rumour about to start that
Loch ness was an import
It travelled from the sea via sky and air
It tried to battle with the mountains
But they burst it's heart and
It bled into a hole
Apparently there's a mist in a wood somewhere
It never leaves even in the arid sun
Its purpose is to get noticed
And to moisten the imagination
The lichen and the moss took a liking to it
It hangs beneath the willow who
Shouldn't really be there
This is no place for a weeper
There's a brook that you can drink from
It's supposed to make you wealthy
But if all else fails it'll make you healthy
It'll charm you healthy