Where Hodder and Ribble's fair waters do meet...

Pendle oh Pendle, thou standest alone,
Twixt Burnley and Clitheroe, Whalley and Colne,
Where Hodder and Ribble's fair waters do meet,
With Barley and Downham content at thy feet.

Oh Pendle, oh Pendle, majestic, sublime,
Thy praises will ring till the end of all time,
Thy beauty eternal, thy banner unfurled,
Thou dearest and grandest old hill in the world.

And when witches fly on a cold winter's night,
You must not tell a soul, and you'll bolt the door tight,
You'll sit by the fireside and keep yourself warm,
Until once again you can walk in her arms.

Oh Pendle, Oh Pendle, o'er moorland and fell,
In glorious loveliness ever to dwell,
Through life's fateful journey where e'er we may be,
We'll cease in our labours and oft think of thee.