High on the fells of boggy ground
There, the flower of Cumberland’s found.
By the name of bog star
more commonly known
Off the mountain of the gods
your seeds were borne.
On unforgiving windswept hills
You hold sway over marsh and ghylls.
When you glance down
on that Lakeland scene
Do you of Mount Parnassus dream?
Do those barren places you have been
Make poets’ words too precious seem.
Doughty flower of pastel hue
An English county honours you.