A Song for Cornwall
by Bernard Moore

On ancient roads our fathers made
By seaboard hill and moor,
We follow in their footsteps still
To mine and farm and shore.
And where they passed they left behind
Their music by the way
In ancient names that in our ears
Are ringing still to-day.

Tre, Ros, Pol, Lan, Car, Tol, Pen,
Ring a peal to Cornishmen.

On moor and hill our fathers left
Their monuments in stone
To tell of bygone mysteries,
A heritage we own.
In mystic circles we may know
Dividing Time to cease,
And still may hear the ancient call
And join the cry for ‘Peace.”

Dâwns Men, Hurlers, Boscawen-Un,
Echo still an ancient tune.

In far-off days our fathers fought
Invading hordes to stay;
In living legends they endure,
Their cromlechs stand to-day.
Great Arthur’s spirit potent still,
Feeds an undying fire;
Still gleams the brand Excalibur
To beacon and inspire.

Arthur, Galahad, Bedivere,
Cornishmen their call can hear.
In ancient days when Saints had come
To dwell by well and spring,
Our fathers raised their crosses high
A sign for worshipping.
Then churches rose with stately towers,
And bells their pride to crown.
And now the tide of music flows
From Rame to Sennen Town.

Truro, Bodmin, Padstow, Paul,
Ring chimes to One and All.

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