Wander, ye, over that next hill
To find there antique treasure buried
Alas, but a note you find instead:
“What you seek is yet one valley further”

So still onward do ye climb
Dodging savage broom and bramble
But alas this time you find a sign
Written on it, that accursed selfsame line.

And so the farmer will ever toil and till
And so ye clamber ever up the next hill.