Around the lanes the wind blows bare
what it seeks no longer there
Alas poor wind I'll tell you now
this one you seek is long for gone
Places you will never know
behind closed doors
where spices grow
Should have known my blustery friend
a time so high is sure to end
A gift to treasure, a smile to share
not gilders hidden in cupboards bare
Go my friend and set thee forth
for new horizons beckon
Sing to us of stories north
southwester, and treasures eastern
Yes too I sigh from time to time
as certain smells will linger
Yet for the best my blustery friend
set forth we will, and deliver.