You’re the land that taught me to stand proud
In our Celtic hearts we sing so loud
Foundations dug deep for out black gold
Lives were lost…
The coal was sold.
English masters tried to rule our hills
Still in our hearts the red blood spills
Onto the pitch where the dragons roar
Fighting hard to settle…
The score.
Land of Wales, all things Welsh
Bitter but proud with the blood of a Celt.
Bread of heaven in our hands
No-one will ever take our land!
Your roaming, rambling beauty
That makes me shiver with pride.
The remote moors, desolate shores
with rivers guiding the Mountainside.
Our green fields….
Hide the scars of old
Ich Dien Cymru
Forever more.
Viv Huskings
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Viv, pleased you pulled on the red shirt. You breathed fire with this one. Regards,