CORNWALL.
 
 
Cornwall,
Is a Holiday,
A place in your Memory,
Cream Teas,
And  brightened Skies,
Pasties,
Granite Moors,
To which Choirs sing,
And tell of  Cousin Jack,
Mining when!
 
For Cornwall is,
One Golden Beach,
A rolling tide on Celtic mists,
Breathed of  Legends when,
Slow of Ayr,
Seas spill over,
You  Estuary View,
Speaks now of Smugglers Coves,
Telling of their Silver Darlings,
 
As you Wreckers Lower,
Life and Limp,
To your Ancient Rocks,
Now grey of Death,
                             Cornwall is!
 
A tongue.