(With apologies to John Masefield!)

 

Down the rugged coastline where the sea strikes cruelly,

Breaking on the jagged rocks as tide recedes,

And the golden sand lies placidly,

Strewn with stranded jellyfish,

Flotsam, jetsam and long straggling seaweeds.

 

In the mournful mountains where the mist lies bleakly,

Rolling down the scree slopes where the stray sheep hide;

With the glimpse of purple heather

Through marram grass and reeds,

Brooding over turf stacks at the drab road side.

 

Through hardy homesteads on the outskirts of villages,

Along the winding highways round the bogland hills;

Visiting the golf courses,

Beaches, fishing lakes,

The castles and pubs and the old hotels.