O ! What bliss encompasseth that far Duchy
Where land and sea commingle
A land of pastye tin and germy surf
Where emmets frolicke gaily on the shyngle
For like some latter-day Prometheus unbound
The keeper of the flayme did board the plane
From wise Athena's troubl'd Grecian lair
Succeeding where proud Icarus in vain
Had sought to chase the eagle through the air
In busyness-classe instede of Phoebus' car
And now this flayme ywrenchèd from priestess
A vestal of the forge Hephaestic far
In Cornwalle bodies forth its light surreal
Down cobbled streets and child infested lanes
Redruth Tregony Newquay Bude and Rock
And thence to Bodmin Moor with granite fanes
Its flyckering illumines ancient stone
Encircling tombs of kinges from days of yore
When giants rudely sate on Albion's throne
And Merlin proudly strode Tintagel's shore
Too soon the flayme has crossed the Duchy's bourne
Forsaking pastye, tin & surfboards waxy
The light has gone the ancient fanes are dimm'd
The torche arryves in London in a taxi
Code:
No comments:
Post a Comment