I have lazed on a sun drenched atoll;
And sailed the South China Seas.
I’ve run my hands through warm Caribbean sands;
And watched the sunrise over the keys;
But still I’m thinking of mist-shrouded Snowdon;
And the forests on the shores of Vyrnwy.
For this is the land of the dragon;
And it’s where I want to be,
For I am dragon’s child;
And it’s a part of me.
For this is the land of the dragon;
And wherever I may roam,
I’ll always be dragon’s child;
And this will always be my home.
So when I’m scaling the peaks in Nepal,
Or shopping for gifts in Tokyo;
When I’m exploring the far reaches of Amazon;
Or letting my hair down in Rio;
My thoughts are on the beaches of Gower;
And the snow-tipped crags of Cader.
For this is the land of the dragon;
And it’s where I want to be,
For I am dragon’s child;
And it’s a part of me.
For this is the land of the dragon;
And wherever I may roam,
I’ll always be dragon’s child;
And this will always be my home.
From the rain grey terraces of Rhondda, to the spume tipped Celtic sea;
And the sails on Bala, to the mountains of Meirionnydd;
Down to the sweeping Dyfi estuary;
From the Menai Straits and the road through Dylif;
To the castles in Carmarthen, Caernarfon and Cardiff;
Oh, Men of Harlech and the Pontypool Front Row;
Know that this is where my heart is, no matter where I go.
So when I’m seeking out the source of the Nile,
Or trekking the Great Rift Valley;
I might pause and reflect for a while;
And in my mind, a greener vale, I’ll see.
For this is the land of the dragon;
And it’s where I want to be,
For I am dragon’s child;
And it’s a part of me.
For this is the land of the dragon;
And wherever I may roam,
I’ll always be dragon’s child;
And this will always be my home.
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My wife and I have lived in Bristol for 42 years, much longer than we have ever lived in Wales where we were both born or anywhere else on this earth.
We were discussing today when shall we next visit my 88yr old mother in Cardiff? And the question always gets phrased… “When are we going HOME, this weekend or next?”
So a very happy St David’s Day to you and yours Longrider. The English really have no idea about the place do they?
And as to the poetry… Organ Morgan lives! 😉
Although I’m English and have lived most of my life in England, I spent a few years during my teens living in north Wales. It gets under your skin. The places in the poem are all from my childhood. Forty years on and it’s still there tugging away.
Llareggub! I meant the rev Eli Jenkins!