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Typical
Welsh sea shore - watch out for rocks if you take
a swim!
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If
the sea shore could talk, what a tale it would
tell.
Of conquest and battle and love in the dell.
Of laddies and lassies and all of that stuff,
But it cannot, it will not, in surly rebuff.
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Wales,
oh Wales, thou grandest of lands,
Tall hills and deep valleys and loud sound of
bands.
Calling me, calling you, back to the green,
and the red and the yellow and all that is clean.
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Over
the water - The Green Green Grass of Home?
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A
Land of Hills and Valleys - and more water.
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Listen
awhile and I'm sure you will hear,
o're mountains so distant and valleys so near.
The sound of the rivers and streams swift and
rough,
That tell you no lies, still loudly rebuff.
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But
wait - what is this that is silently heard,
as the song of a bird, perfectly formed word?
The sweetest of songbirds comes out of this land,
These words so well formed, they could fit in your
hand.
So
young and so sweet, fresh flower of Wales,
even the daffodil beside her swift pales.
Listen my friends as her voice gently rises,
so soft and so gentle, yet full of surprises.
Come
now sweet river and tell us her name.
Tell us the story of how she rose to fame.
Tell us dear river, don't leave us to search,
I hear you. I hear you! Her name's Charlotte
Church.
Simon ("The Saint") March 2000
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The
Bridge of Sighs - Like time, the stream flows
swiftly onward.
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