Oh, fair land of Arthur, of unsurpassed beauty,
Home of the farmer and fisherman's art
May ever I live twixt your shores and the Tamar
In the home of my children, the home of my heart

A constant of changing wave-lust ridden coastline
God-gifted to wreckers who reap where you've sown
Warm-wrapped in a blanket of feather-soft sea mist
Where surfers and mermaids played long in your foam

Your rocks and high moorland of granite and couch grass,
Birds call as they fly over circles of stone....
Standing tall, telling tales of Nine Maidens and Hurlers
Now wind-rushed and blustered, together, alone.

Fair land of the farmer and fisher and miner
As industries new waste the net, plough and mine
This place, once our Eden, has Eden provided
Past, present and future, stands timeless in time

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