From Bolton's old monastic tower
The bells ring loud with gladsome power;
The sun shines bright, the fields are gay
With people in their best array
Of stole and doublet, hood and scarf,
along the banks of crystal Wharf
Through the vale retired and lowly,
Trooping to that summons holy.
And, up among the moorlands, see
What sprinklings of blithe company!
Of lasses and of shepherd grooms,
That down the steep hills force their way
Like cattle through the budding blooms;
Path, or no path, what care they?
And thus in joyous mood they hie
To Bolton's moulding priory.

From "Canto First" by William Wordsworth, 1807. From The White Doe of Rylestone, inspired by a trip to Bolton Abbey. I'm thinking he's doing some historical costume referencing, since the priory/abbey was "dissolved" in the sixteenth century?

Recited by Rob Brydon in Episode 6 of the Trip:

"I liked Bolton Abbey before you liked Bolton Abbey."