I love to walk in the fields at Guestling
Through the old Churchyard;
Down to the woods and ponds, where the dragonflies dart
And the moorhens chatter and dash
Oh, I know why my love wants to be there.

To stand in the fields at Guestling
And see the Buzzard soar on thermals high.
I wish I could join the skylarks
And compete with them in the sky.
Oh, I know why my love likes to be there.

To go to the high fields at Guestling and glimpse the sea beyond
To see the ships out on the sky line,
And wonder what journeys they’re on.
Maybe to Africa, maybe to Spain,
Or France, next door and back again.
Oh, I know why my love wants to be there.

To hear the Church bells on Sunday
Ring out for all to hear.
My heart fills with joy and I am happy,
For I know that my love wanted to be there.

© Betty Batt