Upping sticks we are transported

To Cornwall, nearer Plymouth than Heaven.

Giddy from one too many maypole spins 

We’re going south, one step beyond Devon.

 

We’ll come to meet those immovable objects

Tempered by fierce Atlantic forces,

Learn the potency of jars unlabelled

And whispered secrets of obby osses.

 

Down the tracks we hurtle, dreckly, dreckly

The grass is greener, we will prove it true.

Give away one world to find one better

To get high on clifftops our point of view.