a G

In the mountains of Cambria, by Rhymney4s bright stream

a G

I have oft slept in heather, and dreamed a bright dream

a G

No mortal could wake me, nor see what I4ve seen

a G

No landscape could ever compare



`twas the land of my fathers, unfettered, and free

Ere the time that Saxon swept over the sea

When mistletoe grew 4neath the shining oak tree

No landscape could ever compare



Dreaming of Prydein, asleep on the hill

When I awaken, will you be there still?

Oh, Islandsof Poets, my dreams you can fill

But never the long waking hours



Mighty poets and Warriors traversed every road

Leaving stories and legends whereever they strode

Their pasts are recalled in the humblest abode

In tales of the sunnier days



Now my story is ended, my song is all gone

I have slept thru the evening, and into the dawn

Yet still, I remember your face, Albion

And your older, and much wiser ways!