Cornwall

Harrys Lyrics Page

These are the lyrics and sample music for the CD
“BECAUSE I WAS BORN HERE"
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These Words my be reproduced for pleasure or study not for commercial purposes.

All material is the copyright of P H Glasson

“BECAUSE I WAS BORN HERE"
Please click on the title to hear a sample of the song

Cornwall

IF YOUR ANCESTRY IS FROM CORNWALL
THE LAND BESIDE THE CELTIC SEA
NO MATTER WHERE YOU NOW ABIDE
IT'S CORNISH YOU WILL BE
FOR I AM SURE THAT ALWAYS
WHEN FROM THIS LAND YOU PART
YOU TAKE A TRACE OF CORNWALL
WITHIN YOUR CORNISH HEART
NO MATTER WHERE YOU SETTLE
NO MATTER WHERE YOU ROAM
THAT LITTLE TRACE OF CORNWALL
WILL ALWAYS CALL YOU HOME

A SONG FOR CORNWALL

WHEN I SING OF CORNWALL THERE'S JUST ONE WAY TO BEGIN

TO TELL THE STORY OF THE MEN WHO US BROUGHT COPPER FISH AND TIN

FROM THE SEA THAT'S ALL AROUND US TO WAY BELOW THE GROUND

THE MEMORY OF THESE MIGHTY MEN IS GATHERED ALL AROUND

SO LETS HEAR IT FOR TRELAWNEY MAY HIS ARMY NEVER DIE

LET'S HEAR IT FOR TREVITHICK WITH HIS ENGINE STEAMING BY

LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE FARMERS AND FOR THE FISHERMEN

LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE MINERS WHO WE HOPE WILL MINE AGAIN

FROM THE ENGINE HOUSES THAT LAY SCATTERED ROUND CARN BREA

TO THE WHITE ST AUSTELL LANDSCAPE SCULPTED IN THE CHINA CLAY

FROM THE HARBORS DOWN AT NEWLYN AT PORTREATH AND AT LOOE

THE LIGHTHOUSE ON THE WOLF ROCK PROVE WHAT CORNISHMEN CAN DO

OUR CORNISH PAST IS MIGHTY IT WAS BUILT BY MIGHTY MEN

AND AS CORNISHMEN WE YEARN FOR THOSE TIMES TO COME AGAIN

SO DO WE LET OUR MINING AND OUR FISHING ROUND US FALL

NOT IF WE STICK TOGETHER IN OUR MOTTO ONE AND ALL

NOW AS YOU CROSS THE TAMAR INTO THIS PROMISED LAND

THERE'S ONE THING TO REMEMBER ONE THING TO UNDERSTAND

THAT CORNWALL 'S NOT A COUNTY THAT IS SITED IN THE WEST

IT'S THAT CORNWALL IS A COUNTRY AND THE LAND I LOVE THE BEST

P H GLASSON 1994

CORNWALL MY HOME

I'VE STOOD ON CAPE CORNWALL IN THE SUNS EVENING GLOW

ON CHYWOONE HILL AT NEWLYN TO WATCH THE FISHING FLEETS GO

WATCHED THE SHEEVE WHEELS AT GEEVOR AS THEY SPUN AROUND

AND I'VE HEARD THE MEN SINGING AS THEY GO UNDERGROUND

AND NO ONE WILL EVER MOVE ME FROM THIS LAND

UNTIL THE LORD CALLS ME TO SIT AT HIS HAND

FOR THIS IS MY EDEN AND I'M NOT ALONE

FOR THIS IS MY CORNWALL AND THIS IS MY HOME

I'VE LEFT CHILDISH FOOTSTEPS IN THE SOFT SENNEN SAND

I'VE CHASED THE MAIDS THERE ALL GIGGLY AND TANNED

AND I'VE STOOD ON THE CLIFF TOP IN A WESTERLY BLOW

AND HEARD THE WAVES THUNDER ON THE ROCKS FAR BELOW

FIRST THING IN THE MORNING ON CHAPEL CARN BREA

TO GAZE AT THE SCILLIES IN THE BLUE FAR AWAY

FOR THIS IS MY CORNWALL AND I'LL TELL YOU WHY

BECAUSE I WAS BORN HERE AND HERE I SHALL DIE

PLEASE GO

GO BACK TO THE CITY AND BUY A CHIHUAHUA

LIFE IN THE COUNTRY WAS NEVER FOR YOU

WITH YOUR BARBOUR JACKET AND YOUR SPRINGER SPANIEL

YOUR COUNTRY GREEN WELLIES AND RANGE ROVER TOO

WITH RARE GOATS AND LLAMAS AND PIGS WITH POT BELLIES

YOU MAKE THE COUNTRYSIDE LOOK LIKE A ZOO

YOU'RE ONLY PLAYING AT WHAT WE ARE LIVING

YOU GIVE AN IMPRESSION THAT AIN'T REALLY TRUE

YOU MAKE US LOOK HEALTHY EDUCATED AND WEALTHY

US NATIVES CONCEIVE THAT IT AIN'T REALLY TRUE

SO PACK UP YOUR TROUBLES AND PICK UP THE FAMILY

AND BACK TO THE CITY PLEASE GO

YOU COMPLAIN ABOUT ROOSTERS THAT CROW IN THE MORNING

AND THE SEAGULLS ARE NOISY WHEN YOU'RE DOWN BY THE SEA

AND YOUR SPRINGER SPANIEL GOT CAUGHT BY A COLLIE

AND NOW SHE'S GOT PUPPIES AND IS LOUSY WITH FLEAS

YOUR RANGE ROVER'S PAINT WORK IS COVERED IN SCRATCHES

FROM BRAMBLE AND BLACKTHORN THAT GROW IN THE LANE

AND THOSE BLOODY FARMERS WITH THEIR MUDDY TRACTORS

THAT MAKE YOU REVERSE ARE NOW'T BUT A PAIN

BUT THAT IS THE WAY WE LIVE IN THE COUNTRY

WE TAKE IT EASY WE TAKE IT SLOW

AND IF YOU CAN'T TAKE IT YOU AIN'T GOING TO MAKE IT

SO BACK TO THE CITY PLEASE GO

YOU FEED THE FOXES THE BADGERS AND MAGPIES

THEY LOOK SO CUTE WHEN THEY'RE OUT ON THE LAWN

WELL AT LEAST UNTIL CHRISTMAS WHEN THEY START THEIR MATING

THEN THE VIXENS ARE SCREAMING LIKE BANSHEE'S TILL DAWN

YOU FIND THAT THE THRUSHES HAVE GONE FROM THE BUSHES

THERE ARE ONLY FAT MAGPIES TO SING YOU A SONG

BUT THEIR TITTLE TATTLE LIKE A FOOTBALL RATTLE

MUST TELL YOU THAT SOMETHING IS DESPERATELY WRONG

FOR NATURE IS NATURE IT'S A NATURAL FEATURE

THEY TOLD US IN CHURCH THAT GOD MADE IT SO

GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY I'M ASKING POLITELY

BACK TO THE CITY PLEASE GO, PLEASE GO

BACK TO THE CITY PLEASE GO

P H Glasson (Harry Safari) 18 February 2002

GOODBYE TO YOU

GOODBYE TO YOU MY LOVE SO TRUE

I HAVE LEFT YOU LONELY ON THE SHORE

TO SAIL AWAY TO AMERIKAY

I MAY NEVER GET TO SEE YOU ANY MORE

HIGH ABOVE MY HEAD THE TOPSAIL'S STIRRING

THE WATER'S MOVING SWIFTLY NEATH THE PROW

FAR ASTERN THE CORNISH SHORE IS STIRRING

HOW I WISH THAT I COULD HOLD YOU NOW

BACK WHEN WE WERE YOUNG AND YOU WERE GROWING

I USED TO SIT AND WATCH YOU AT YOUR PLAY

FOR YOU WERE INNOCENT AND ME NOT KNOWING

AND I NEVER FOUND THE WORDS OF LOVE TO SAY

AND NOW THAT IT'S TOO LATE AND I AM LEAVING

TO SAIL TO A NEW LIFE FAR AWAY

I DON'T KNOW IF YOU'RE GLAD OR IF YOU'RE GRIEVING

FOR I NEVER FOUND THE WORDS OF LOVE TO SAY

REALITY APART

IN THIS LAND AND LONG AGO, WHEN MEN BUILT THINGS OF STONE YOU KNOW

SURVIVAL WAS THE STATUS QUO AND MEN CUT DOWN THE TREES

THE FOREST QUICKLY DISAPPEARED, THE LAND NOW BURNT BLACK AND WEIRD

THE SOUND OF AXES COULD BE HEARD LIKE DRUMMING ON THE BREEZE

DANCING MAIDENS, MEN OF HURLING WHEELING , SWAYING, WEAVING, WHIRLING

THROUGH THE MISTS OF TIME A CURLING, REALITY APART

SOMETIMES WHEN I STAND ALONE, IN A CIRCLE MADE OF STONE

I CAN FEEL THE ANCIENT DRUMMERS DRONE IN THE POUNDING OF MY HEART

HUSBANDRY NOW TOOK THE PLACE OF THE THRILLING AND THE KILLING CHASE

TO FEED AND CLOTHE THIS NEO RACE WHO HAD COME TO UNDERSTAND

BY MAYBE GROWING CROPS AND GRAIN BY UTILIZING SUN AND RAIN

FERTILITY COULD COME AGAIN TO THIS ONCE BARREN LAND

THE GODS THEY NEEDED TO APPEASE FOR BURNING OUT THE FOREST TREES

SO THEY BUILT THESE GODS TO PLEASE CIRCLES MADE OF STONE

FIVE THOUSAND YEARS WE STILL CAN SEE, THESE CIRCLES STAND MAJESTICALLY

SHROUDED IN MYTH AND MYSTERY ON HILLSIDES ALL ALONE

BURY ME WHEN I DIE

BURY ME WHEN I DIE

UPON A HILLSIDE HIGH

SO THAT I CAN LOOK DOWN FROM ABOVE

TO THE MEADOW AND THE MOOR

AND THE CRAGGY CORNISH SHORE

THAT SURROUNDS THIS GRANITE KINGDOM THAT I LOVE

WHERE THE OLD MINE CHIMNEYS RISE

AND ARE POINTING TO THE SKYS

WHERE THE GORSE IS BLOOMING GOLDEN IN THE SPRING

WHERE BRONZE AGE MEN OF OLD

BUILT THEIR SHELTERS FROM THE COLD
ON THAT HILLSIDE WHERE THE MEADOW LARKS WILL SING

WHERE THE KESTRELS GLIDE THE BREEZE

WHERE THE BUSY HONEY BEES

ON THE PERFUMED AUTUMN HEATHER GET THEIR FILL

WHERE THE EVENING SUN WILL SHINE
ON THE YELLOW CELANDINE

PLEASE BURY ME RIGHT UP THERE ON THE HILL

AND FROM MY LOFTY PERCH

I WILL LOOK OUT ORE THE CHURCH

TO SEE THE HARBOUR LIGHTS REFLECTED IN THE SEA

WHERE THE FISHING BOATS WILL RIDE

BOBBING GENTLY ON THE TIDE

PLEASE UP THERE ON THE HILLSIDE BURY ME

ON THE HILLSIDE I SHALL HEAR

THE HYMNS I HOLD SO DEAR

FROM THE CHAPEL IN THE VALLEY DOWN BELOW

OH HOW HAPPY I SHALL BE

NEARER MY GOD TO THEE

ON THE HILLSIDE, IN THE CORNWALL, I LOVE SO

P H GLASSON 04 4 2000

CROFTY

DID YOU HEAR THE NEWS TODAY

AND AINT IT MIGHTY FINE

TO KNOW THAT IN THE NEW YEAR THEY'LL BE

OPENING CROFTY MINE

AND ALL THE CAMBORNE BOYS CAN CHEER

AND FACE CHRISTMAS WITH A GRIN

TO KNOW THAT IN THE NEW YEAR

THEY'LL BE BACK THERE MINING TIN

THAT'S ALL WE'VE EVER WANTED

IT'S WHITHIN OUR BLOOD AND BONE

TO WORK DOWN WHERE OUR FATHERS WORKED

TO BREAK THE TIN FROM STONE

TO DRILL AND BLAST TO MUCK AND TRAM

TO SEE THE GRANITE CRACK

IT MUST FEEL GOOD TO CAMBORNE BOYS

TO WELCOME CROFTY BACK

THEY SAY THAT THEY WANT 20 MEN

TO STRIP AND MEND THE PUMPS

TO WARP THE WHIM AND HANG THE CAGE

AND CLEAN AWAY THE DUMPS

AND THAT IN THREE MONTHS TIME

THEY'LL WANT TWO HUNDRED MORE

AND THAT'S WHAT EVERYONE IN CORNWALL

HAS BEEN HOPING AND PRAYING FOR

LET US HOPE THAT NOW'S THE TIME

AND CROFTY CAN COMPETE

WITH THE MINES ACROSS THIS GLOBE OF OURS

AND BALANCE OUT HER SHEET

TO KNOW THAT CAMBORNE BOYS

CAN WAKE UP WITH A GRIN

TO KNOW THAT THE ON THE NEXT CORE

THEY'LL BE DOWN THERE MINING TIN

THE MAN FROM GALLILEE

WHEN JESUS WAS A YOUNG MAN ON THE SHORES OF GALLILEE

HE MUST HAVE MET WITH TRADERS WHO SAILED ACROSS THE SEA

HE MUST HAVE HEARD OF ISLANDS TO THE NORTH AND FAR AWAY

WHERE MEN MELT STONES TO METAL SO THEY SAY

AND DID OUR LORD IN ANCIENT TIMES WALK UPON OUR SHORE

IT'S BEEN SO LONG AGO NO ONE KNOWS ANY MORE

IS IT JUST A LEGEND OR IS THERE MAYBE SOME TRUTH

DID JESUS COME TO CORNWALL IN HIS YOUTH

JESUS HAD AN UNCLE WHO WAS OF HIS MOTHERS KIN

WHO CAME FROM ARIMATHEA AND TRADED HERE FOR TIN

DID HE BRING A YOUNG MAN WITH HIM TO THIS LAND ACROSS THE SEA

WAS THAT YOUNG MAN JESUS OF GALLILEE

UP IN GLASTONBURY OR SO THE LEGENDS SAY

THAT JESUS AND HIS UNCLE ONCE KNELT DOWN TO PRAY

AND THRUST A STAFF INTO THE GROUND THAT GREW INTO A TREE

THAT FLOWERING THORN IS THERE FOR ALL TO SEE

NEWLYN

WHEN THE WINTER NIGHT COMES CALLING AND THE WIND IS ON THE SEA

AND THE MIST HAS PULLED A CURTAIN ON THE WELCOME HARBOUR LIGHT

FOR THE FISHERMEN OF CORNWALL IT'S A DANGEROUS PLACE TO BE

NEAR GRANITE CLIFFS ON A CORNISH WINTER NIGHT

THE FISHING IT AIN'T EASY SO MANY LIVES ARE LOST

THE FAMILIES OF NEWLYN KNOW WHAT THOSE LIVES HAVE COST

THE SKELETONS OF TRAWLERS LIE CUT UP ON THE SHORE

MANY GOOD MEN IN NEWLYN WON'T GO FISHING ANY MORE

IT'S THE CUT BACKS AND THE KNOCK BACKS THAT HAVE BEEN SO HARD TO BEAR

AND THE RED TAPE REGULATIONS THAT LIMIT DAYS AT SEA

WHILE GOVERNMENT INSPECTORS WAVE THEIR FINGERS IN THE AIR

OUR FISHING FLEET LIES ROTTING AT THE QUAY

A PALE WRAITH LIKE FIGURE WALKS ALONG THE QUIET PIER

THAT ONCE WAS LOUD WITH BUSTLE AND WITH NOISE

GAZING AT THE HARBOUR THROUGH THE HEAPS OF RUSTING GEAR

THAT ONCE WAS FILLED WITH CRAFT OF CORNISH BOYS

WE ALL HOPE THIS SITUATION WILL NEVER COME TO PASS

AND THAT SOMETHING CAN BE DONE TO RIGHT THE WRONG

AND IF WE PULL TOGETHER THE GOVERNMENTS WILL SEE

THAT CORNISH MEN UNITED CAN BE STRONG

HAMBURG

COLD AND MISTY DAY IN HAMBURG

NO BIRDS SINGING, TOO COLD TO FLY

I SIT HERE DREAMING

OF BAYS AND BEACHES

WHERE THE SEAGULL SCREECHES

IN AN AZURE SKY

THE DAYS SEEM LONGER HERE IN HAMBURG

WHEN THE WINTER STREETS ARE WET

I SIT HERE DREAMING

OF SAND AND GREEN SEAS

THE CORNISH CREAM TEAS

CALL ME YET

ON THIS WINTER'S DAY IN HAMBURG

TIME IS DRAGGING SKIES ARE GREY

I SIT HERE DREAMING

OF A HOLIDAY

FLORA DAY

I WISH I WAS IN HELSTON A STANDING IN THE TOWN

ON A BRIGHT MAY MORNING WITH THE PEOPLE ALL DANCING ROUND

BUT I'M OUT HERE IN AMERICA THREE THOUSAND MILES AWAY

I WISH I WAS IN HELSTON ON A HELSTON FLORA DAY

I AM JUST A COUSIN JACK FROM MANY MILES AWAY

FROM ACROSS THE OCEAN AND IN THE USA

BUT MY FAMILY CAME FROM WENDRON AND WHEN THE MINES CLOSED DOWN

THEY CAME OUT HERE TO MICHIGAN AND THE VIRGIN COPPER GROUND

I REMEMBER MY FATHER SAY WHEN HE WAS JUST A LAD

HE WAS TAKEN ONCE T0 FLORA DAY AND THE PLEASURE THAT HE HAD

HIS EVERLASTING MEMORY IS OF A DRUM THAT KEPT THE BEAT

AND THE ECHO OF THE HAUNTING TUNE AS THEY DANCED OFF DOWN THE STREET

I AM JUST A WORKING MAN A CARPENTER BY TRADE

I'VE MANAGED TO RAISE A FAMILY AND KEEP A MORTGAGE PAID

BUT THERE'S NEVER ENOUGH LEFT OVER WHEN ALL IS SAID AND DONE

TO TRAVEL BACK THREE THOUSAND MILES TO THE PLACE THAT I CALL HOME

P H Glasson 1991

FACTORY MAN

IN THE NORTHERN MINES OF THE KEEWANAU

WHERE THE WORK WAS HARD AND THE WINTERS RAW

AT THE AGE OF FOURTEEN I FIRST WENT DOWN

TO WORK THE COPPER LODES DEEP UNDERGROUND

FOR TEN LONG YEARS IN THAT DEEP DARK HOLE

I DUG THE EARTH LIKE A COAL BLACK MOLE

TILL THE MINES THEY CLOSED AND THEY SET ME FREE

I CAME SOUTH WITH MY FAMILY

I'M BUILDING CARS NOW FOR MISTER FORD

'AINT NO MINER ANYMORE

'AINT GOING TO GO DOWN

THAT DIRTY LOW DOWN

STINKING MINE

I'M BUILDING CARS NOW ON THE FACTORY LINE

DOWN IN THE MINE, THE WORK WAS HELL

WE WERE SOMETIMES TRAPPED BY THE GROUND THAT FELL

THE AIR WAS SO BAD DEEP IN THE EARTH

WE WERE NEVER PAID WHAT WE WERE WORTH

HERE IN DETROIT EVERYTHING IS NEW

THERE'S A PLACE TO LIVE AND THERE'S WORK TO DO

THE MONEY'S GOOD HERE AND THE WORK IS CLEAN

JUST PRESSING BUTTONS ON THE BIG MACHINE

MY ELDEST SON IS IN SIXTH GRADE

IF HE WORKS HARD THEN HE'S GOT IT MADE

NO NEED HAS HE TO GO DOWN BELOW

NO CALLOUSED FINGERS NEED HE EVER KNOW

NO CORDITE FUMES, NO CHOKING DUST

NO MISFIRED CHARGES NEED HE TRUST

IF HE GETS HIS GRADES HE WILL NEVER KNOW

WHAT HIS POOR OLD MAN ONCE HATED SO

Harry (Safari) Glasson 1999

SIMPLE PLEASURES

SIMPLE PLEASURES LIKE A PASTY IN THE HAND

WHILE YOU SIT AND WATCH THE FULMAR SWOOP AND GLIDE

OR SITTING WITH YOUR CHILDREN BUILDING CASTLES IN THE SAND

TO SEE A FISHING BOAT RETURNING ON THE TIDE
TO HEAR A LARK SINGING HIGH UP ON THE MOOR

THE PERFUMED HONEYSUCKLE IN THE LANE

TO SIT AND WATCH THE MEWING BUZZARD SOAR

OR JUST WALKING IN THE GENTLE SUMMER RAIN

SOME DAY WHEN I'M OLDER WHEN I'M WISE

AND MAYBE PASSING TIME WILL DIM MY EYES

IT'S MEMORIES LIKE THESE I'LL CALL TO HAND
THE MEMORIES OF A SIMPLE CORNISH MAN

SIMPLE PLEASURES LIKE A LITTLE FALL OF SNOW

THAT TURN THE BARBED WIRE FENCES INTO LACE

SITTING TALKING IN THE FLICKERING CANDLE GLOW

AS THE DANCING SHADOWS PLAY ACROSS HER FACE
THE DOG THAT CURLS IT SELF AROUND YOUR TOES

WHEN THAT EASTERN WIND BLOWS UNDERNEATH YOUR DOOR

A FROSTY MORNING NIPPING AT YOUR NOSE

AS YOU WALK ACROSS THE WINTER SENNEN SHORE

SIMPLE PLEASURES LIKE THE GIRL YOU USED TO KNOW

WHO STAYED A MARAZION FOR A WEEK

WALKING TO THE MOUNT WHEN THE EVENING TIDE WAS LOW

HOLDING HANDS AND TO IN LOVE TO SPEAK

THE HALO THAT THE MOON MADE ROUND HER HAIR

AS THE LIGHTS OF MOUSHOLE DANCED ACROSS THE SEA

WHEN SHE CRIED IT WAS MORE THAN YOU COULD BEAR

SIMPLE MEMORIES THEY MEAN SO MUCH TO ME

ALL MATERIAL WRITTEN BY AND THE COPYRIGHT OF

HARRY (SAFARI) GLASSON