Pound For Pound – Pendle

There’s many a ridge n peak n mound

That straddle this fine land,

But one such holds a special place

I’m sure you’ll understand

It’s not the Cairngorm Mountains

Or even Scafell Pike,

Cos Wainwright was a Blackburner

And MacDui’s a fair hike

It couldn’t be the Yorkshire dales

Or chalky Sussex downs,

Cos Brighton’s a long way from here

And puddings are for clowns

It may have been grand old Catbell’s

But for a feline phobia,

Whilst even Costwold quaintness

Must bow to my utopia

For we are born of Pendle

Offspring of the hill,

And when it comes to pound for pound

We lick em all to nil.