Once this long valley hummed with sounds of trade

By horse and cart the farmers’ grain would come

To busy mills from which the flour was made

The tireless stream driving the wheels along

This valley road was thronged with horse and carts

It seemed like half the countryside was there

No room to move just endless stops and starts

While Jersey chatter filled the dusty air

The mills now gone the millers had their day

The stream still runs the reservoirs to fill

Now flour is made in quite a different way

But the whispers of the valley linger still

Few cars or carts are to be seen today

Walkers are at peace as they make their way