A ride in the countryside on my bike with an east wind blowing in my face,
But then I am only going at a steady pace,
The Vale of the White Horse and the dale of the Downs are all around me like fox and hounds,
In the distance wind turbines come to view their tall elegant structure for all to view or stew,
Further along the road distant chimneys come into sight,
It must be Didcot am I right and what a sight,
The power station looks so doom and gloom memories of the past that I hope will not last,
The turbines rely on the wind that will blast and all their elegance I hope will last.
And as I reflect on my journey today I remember those chimneys I hope of the past please do not last,
And those elegant wind turbines so pleasant to view that have caused all this stew.