by

Alun Buffry

Mogul sounds, ring round

The glorious snow-capped mounds.

Sheep and cows, outside now,

The friendly servant humbly bows.

The air is cold, the valley bold,

The view, the peace the beauty sold,

For rupees, pounds or marks,

Or items brought from Marks and Sparks.

The atmosphere here is safe for sure.

The beggars try to ask for more.

The market places always full,

Of paper mashie, carpets of wool.

The walnut carvings are the best,

In all the world, east or west!

The peace that finds itself so near,

Is peace that travels everywhere.