They're supposed to be the most haunted woods in the country, and you'd believe it if you moored up there on a misty winter's night, when your torch shows you unblinking eyes looking back at you. Never mind if it's only a fox thinking "Put that ruddy light out! You're blinding me!"
Here's something about walking at night
Switch off the torch! There’s light enough
to see by, though the path is rough;
and, though the beam it throws is bright
it hides all else, and makes the night
seem darker than it is. So douse the light.
The Milky Way is one long flow
across the sky’s deep indigo
and timid creatures, soft and slow,
pass by, with food their only care
- and we’re not on the bill of fare.
Here, take my hand! We’re nearly there
