In the beginning there were ancient unspoilt woods
A thrift with diverse life
As rolled back the many planes of ice
And then came man with minds diverse, emboldening
And began the first Britanic race
Which mixed with race then isolate
Then mixed again procures uniqueness
As befits their rich and variegated homeland
And so in time are set to ancient agriculture
Denuding so much of the place
The landscape moves in slow adventure
With which we illustrate our case

When cleared the haga*** plant enclosed
The whore of the age of husbandry
In later years her witchwood bears
And pig iron is her child
Her grey crack bark and its spike jacked twig
As twitched and as tenoned and as tendoned as the old girls hand
Her leaves deep lobed as numbered as the week
And come the cooler months she will provide the
Aphrodisiac of life
We culled as bread and cheese
Like nurture from a mothers tit
The red pins uttered from white cushioned may
Said the heart of the blossom of the hawthorn tree
Lightning is abroad I will 'arbour thee
Under the dense hedge as we crouched
So there we fell in love
My lady of Charlotte** and I
This is the mayhaws secret gift passed down
The black arts in her occult roots
Were squandered in these magic bitten isles
And on my love are written
The woes of the ancient tribes
In mystic repetition culled by devious catholic scribes
Its images a journey to our craggy 'lantic coast
Where Celtic voices may still call as echoes pon
Tthhe sa-sacred mabi-nog-nog-nog

In a In a cavern, in a inner box, all wrapped in a tarball
Could hear the playful squeals above
Where small whales met the edge of inspiration
Where blue Neptune meets the Penfro bluff and heat arising
I tell you now boyo
That deep beneath the caves a tunnel wriggles, leads
From far that Celtic crest and mouth
Known only as the barrow where its saunters end
Known only as the burrow of animals at rest
And where brook and tumble drop
Dive from those teifi emerald* bluffs
So uprode the Brython princess on her
Prim long blanche locked pony
She scours and scorns the seas a west about
From whence the whales spout and sport the dolphin pout
To circumnavigate the arc of thin horizons

Hope accosts faith
Faith accosts creation
Creation accosts experience
Experience requests the signatures of time
So many hopes die without affidavit and premature

** reference to the accumulation of welsh tales by lady charlotte guest
*** hawthorn & related folklore