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When autumn came to Stoorland and the leaves were turning brown,
I heard the ancient marsh-toad speak
in Stock-Brook when the sun was down.
He showed me then the harvest moon with starlight for a crown
That shone upon the steady flow
of Stock-Brook when the sun was down.
He told me of the summer days before the chill came down,
Of light-bugs dancing in the breeze
near Stock-Brook when the sun was down
The Golden Perch is stocked with ale, enough in which to drown,
But here I'll hear the marsh toad's tale
by Stock-Brook while the sun goes down.
