Land Of My Fathers
What's left in the valleys,
Now there's no coal,
No life in the steel works,
No pride on the dole,
Where's the heart in our rugby,
The song in our soul,
No reason to sing,
No pride on the dole.
The dragon may slumber,
While sleeping will dream,
And will rage at the plunder,
Of each underground seam,
Then with fresh burning passion,
Long awaited rebirth,
For this Land Of My Fathers,
Such sweet smelling earth.
by Andrew Tovey
(c) all rights reserved (copyright) andrew Tovey 2004