Mary Cresswell - The Pass at Grasmere

I wandered lonely as a cloud
No need, no wish for company.
His greeting rang out, rough and loud
And smirking, he sloped up to me.

I saw you standing all alone
Wandering lonely as a cloud,
You poor wee thing. Now come along
We’ll go and join the jolly crowd.

So there’s him bloody,  me unbowed --
I knew he thought he had a hope:
I tried to wander like a cloud,
He moved in closer for a grope.

I smacked his face and left the shite.
So what if I’m so well-endowed?
Plus, every girl has got the right
To wander lonely as a cloud.