In Newton-upon-Rawcliffe, where the moors meet the sky,

The beauty of nature surrounds, as time passes by.

With hills rolling gently and fields lush and green,

A peaceful escape from the hustle and bustle of routine.

The village is quaint, with a charm all its own,

A place where the community has grown and has shown,

That kindness and warmth are what make a place great,

And in Newton-upon-Rawcliffe, this is never too late.

The church spire stands tall, a beacon of hope,

A reminder of faith and the power to cope.

With each passing season, the village transforms,

Into a wonderland of color, that the heart warmly warms.

In winter, snow falls, blanketing the ground,

Creating a serene and peaceful surround,

While spring brings blossoms, of every hue,

A symphony of fragrance, that makes everything new.

Summer sees the heather bloom, and the moors turn purple,

As bees buzz and butterflies dance in a twirl.

And in autumn, the trees burst into flame,

A fiery display, that puts all to shame.

Newton-upon-Rawcliffe, a gem in the crown,

A village of beauty, where time slows down.

A place to rest, to heal and to dream,

Where life is simpler, and joy reigns supreme.