Oh help as I with empty  brain,
Indulge in travel on this train.
No summer sun or moonlit shores,
No singles doubles halves or scores.

I have no thought just vacant eye,
Trees and fields go flashing by.
Very soon I’ll paint my mind,
With flowers of the sweetest kind.

You see I’m off to Grasmere Dales,
Where Wordsworth pen’d his love for Wales.
Where daffodils their life doth spend,
I long to see my journey’s end.