Hiraeth of a Modern Celt
Upon the green hills of Cymru
I stand arrested by the veiw
of cryptic sea and ancient shore
that stood ten thousand years before
they met my callow eye
and will remain for many more
long after I die
I'm solemn above the briny stew
with thoughts of kin I never knew
fishing the sea, mining the coal
or mining the depths of a poet's soul
A nation's buried history
revived once more because it knows
the blood that flows through me
Blood that fed this fertile soil
with the Celtic tears and toil
of Warriors dead b'neath the peat
that pads the soles of anglish feet
the true Princes of Wales
rule no more upon this shore
except in children's tales
The epic song of Arthur's quest
or Madoc's journey somewhere west
stories of the Mabinogion
or family tales of distant kin
who fought so hard, but failed
to keep their ancient birthright
so to distant lands they sailed
Centuries pass, now here I stand
a stranger in this native land
welcomed by the foe of yore
that chased my people from this shore
leaving me a world apart
from the Cymru pulsing through my blood
and beating in my heart
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