Long walk through the valley

Yea, though I walk through the Valley
of honey and milk, where this wide sweet
river has cloven the hills, and the wild orchards
spill with ripe, red fruit, it is none of it mine
- and I don’t give a hoot.

Yea, though I walk through the Valley
in my undershorts, I pray that to passing cops,
these big, floppy boxers look enough like funky
cool shorts to pass - and they pass, and they pass,
and each time, I wilt.

Yea, though I walk through the Valley, I can’t
get used to the accent.

Yea, though I walk through the Valley,
I can’t seem to thumb a ride.

Yea, though I walk through the Valley
of the shadow coming towards me,
I lift up my eyes and behold, looks
like one hum-dinger of a storm coming on.

Yea, though I walk through the Valley it’s
stinking hot.

Yea, though I walk through the Valley,
I wonder about valleys in general.

Yea, though I walk through the Valley,
I feel pleasantly relieved about nothing
I can positively identify.

Yea, though I walk through the Valley
and I see some jagoff up ahead in a
black hoodie robe wearing a skull
mask and flailing around an antique
cropsmithery implement, I will kick
his damn ass for him if he keeps
heading this way and doesn’t calm
the hell down pronto.

Yea, though I walk through the Valley
getting hungry all day, the looks of this
roadside diner don’t inspire me with hope.

Yea, though I walk through the Valley
completing sentence after sentence, I
ponder the point of the exercise, if any.

Yea, though I walk through the Valley, there is none.

Guess I made it all the way through! Alright.

Now was that a river valley or what? All the way 
through I didn't see no 

mountains