It's Not So Much The Distance Nor The Time It Takes
It's Not Even The Cold Nor The Pains Or Aches
I Can Cope With Blisters And The Weight Of My Pack
And I Don't Mind The Rain If I've Got My Mac
But Have I Cursed Wainwright In My Time
To Be Fair, He Said It's All Muck And Slime
The Creeping Sludge, The Never-ending Peat
It Were That That Nearly Finished Me, It Nearly Had Me Beat
Peat Bogs, Peat Bogs, More Peat Bogs
You'd Never Credit It--they Burn The Stuff Instead Of Logs
Peat Bogs, Peat Bogs, More Peat Bogs
Well It's Such A Funny Stuff Is Peat, It's Nature's Own Glue
It Got To Me, It Did, And By The End Of Day, Too
I Thought, I'm Only Carrying On So That I Can Say
If I've Done Nothing Else, I've Walked The Penine Way
But I Did It Seven Years Ago, So Why Do It Again?
Well I Don't Really Know, And I Didn't Know Then
Unless It's This That's Been Nagging At My Noggin
Peat Bogs And Me Have Got This Love/hate Thing
Peat Bogs, Peat Bogs, More Peat Bogs
You'd Never Credit It--they Burn The Stuff Instead Of Logs
Peat Bogs, Peat Bogs, More Peat Bogs