I go for a walk, every day through my village
Whatever weather, rain or shine
I wander along the quiet village road
And on the air taste the sea-salt brine

Sea birds call and soar and twist
In the air above my head
The village itself is still awake
With the scent of pub chips, as they lay out their spread

But the thing I love is the dogs I meet on the way
The ones who’s affections I can’t snub
The ones who bark and sniff and whine
And roll over to demand their belly rub

Cos this village has a population of 50
30 people 20 dogs and a cow and some sheep
And I’m not saying the dogs have it all their own way
But their price for passing unmolested is steep

So my walk through the village is something for which I prepare
And I always keep to hand a treat
But perhaps it’s not wise to walk through a village of dogs
With a pocket that smells full of meat…