for the mullins of marple.
This is the land that has cast its spell
And called to me from far away.
On the southern winds I hear the sea
And the cry of gulls soaring free.
This land of legend and Piskey folk,
And brave seamen who’s daring do
Leave us common sort in awe
With shanty tales of sailing lore.
Soft gentle hills and winding lanes
And babbling streams that murmur sweet
Through leafy dales where flowers grow,
Sheltered from the chilling blow.
This place of solitude and storms,
Of ferns and moors and changing sky,
Calls forth my heart to return again.
My greatest wish that I could remain.
And when my last breath leaves me,
My soul will venture free,
Above this splendid paradise
That God has loaned to me