Mists drift low on granite tors
Where foals take their first short steps
Gorse blooms gold by the heathered moors
And skylarks rise with soft duets
Streams run quick with the flood of rain
Dartmoor wakes, life can restart
Spring returns to the open plain
With hope as strong as in my heart

Sunlight sprawls on the endless heath
Warm winds carry the cries of crows
Ponies shelter in shade beneath
Ancient oaks where the river slows
Long days stretch past the endless sky
Bracken whispers where shadows play
Summer shimmers and drifts on by
A fleeting dream of a golden day

Bronze leaves dance on the rugged trails
Storm clouds gather with sudden might
Heather fades under cooling gales
And dusk comes sooner each fading night
Cattle roam through the moorland brown
Fog rolls in from the distant sea
Autumn settles like worn-down crown
A gentle, sombre majesty

Frost bites hard at the granite stones
Snow drifts over the struggling paths
Winds howl tales in their ancient tones
And rivers slow in the winter’s grasp
Yet still the moor holds a quiet grace
A silent strength in the bitter cold
Winter’s chill on this steadfast place
Makes every sunrise burn like gold

Seasons wheel as the years turn round
Each one teaching what time imparts
Change is woven in sky and ground
And echoed deep in our shifting hearts
Dartmoor stands through the rise and fall
Through bloom, through storm, through calm and strife
Reminding us we’re a part of all
The turning seasons that shape our life

When the morning mist lies silver on the rugged moorland rise
And the river runs whispering beneath the open skies
There’s a call that breaks the quiet, bright and clear as any spring
The cuckoo’s voice returning, on the soft West Country wind

Cuckoo, cuckoo
Sing your haunting tune
Cuckoo, cuckoo
Across the heath and heather’s bloom
Past ancient oaks across the moor
You’re home again at Black a Tor
You’re home again at Black a Tor

From winter lands she journeys far, past storm and darkened sea
To the shelter of the twisted oaks, old as memory
Where moss drips green on granite stones and shadows drift like lore
She brings the sound of springtime to the heart of high Dartmoor

Cuckoo, cuckoo
Sing your haunting tune
Cuckoo, cuckoo
Across the heath and heather’s bloom
Past ancient oaks across the moor
You’re home again at Black a Tor
You’re home again at Black a Tor

The ponies lift their gentle heads, the skylarks wheel above
As the moor awakes to sunlight in a land the wild things love
And every step along the track, where time runs slow and sure
Is guided by that echoing call, familiar, clear, and pure

Cuckoo, cuckoo
Sing your haunting tune
Cuckoo, cuckoo
Across the heath and heather’s bloom
Past ancient oaks across the moor
You’re home again at Black a Tor
You’re home again at Black a Tor

So raise your eyes to windward now, where clouds in sunlight roam
And know that every spring returns the wanderer to her home
While seasons turn and years drift on, one promise will endure
The cuckoo finds her welcome in the woods of Black a Tor

Cuckoo, cuckoo
Sing your haunting tune
Cuckoo, cuckoo
Across the heath and heather’s bloom
Past ancient oaks across the moor
You’re home again at Black a Tor
You’re home again at Black a Tor

The mist is a quilt that hugs the hill
A whispering brook flows slow and still
Under a sky that's cold but kind
A foal is born to the breath of time

First steps on Dartmoor wild and free
A dance with the heather a waltz with the breeze
Oh little one the world is wide
But the moor will always be your guide

The gorse wears gold like a crown of fire
A lark ascends higher and higher
Pebbles crunch where the ponies tread
The foal stumbles forward the earth its bed

Clouds roll like waves but they never crash
The winds sing secrets in a fleeting flash
With each small step the moor it cheers
Through the hush of Spring through the turning years

First steps on Dartmoor wild and free
A dance with the heather a waltz with the breeze
Oh little one the world is wide
But the moor will always be your guide

Run little foal through the morning dew
The moor has a song and it sings it for you
Forever here in this ancient place
Where the sky and the tors reflect your grace

The mist is a quilt that hugs the hill
A whispering brook flows slow and still
Under a sky that's cold but kind
A foal is born to the breath of time

In the hush of the evening the shadows play 
Silver light on the moss where the moonbeams lay 
Tiny footsteps flutter where the wild wind stood 
Pixies start their dancing in the bluebell wood 

Hear the chiming petals ring 
Soft as whispered songs of spring 

Oh, round and round the pixies spin 
Laughter like a violin
Bluebells sway in the velvet night 
Carried on a breeze of golden light 
Magic hums where the old trees stood 
Pixies dance in the bluebell wood 

Firefly lanterns sparkle in the hidden glade
Weaving spells in the air that the dusk has made
Tiny wings are trembling with a secret tune
Glittering and gliding ’neath a silver moon 

Every leaf and petal knows 
Where their starry rhythm goes 

Magic hums where the old trees stood 
Pixies dance in the bluebell wood 

If you wander softly there
Holding gentle, breathless air
You might hear their voices ring
A distant, shimmering echo of spring 

Oh, round and round the pixies spin 
Inviting wandering hearts within
Bluebells bow to the ancient tune
Spirits swirling ‘neath the watchful moon
Stay awhile, if you only could
Dreams awake in the bluebell wood

In the hush of the evening the shadows play
Silver light on the moss where the moonbeams lay
Tiny footsteps flutter where the wild wind stood
Pixies start their dancing in the bluebell wood

From the tors at dawn we’re moving, boots on granite cold and keen
Mist is curling off the heather, moonlight silver on the green
Hear the curlew’s lonely calling, smell the peat smoke on the wind
Where the Teign runs dark and daring, that’s the night our tale begins

Oh, the Teign runs fast and free, lads, through the valley, through the rain
We’ll take our chance and take our keep on the River Teign again
By the stars and by the silence, by the old Dartmoor refrain
We are the bold Dartmoor poachers on the River Teign again

Keep your lanterns low and shaded, hear the water talk in turns
Every pool a whispered promise, every bend a lesson learned
Silver flash beneath the alder, heartbeats drumming with the strain
Hands are steady, spirits ready, timing’s all on River Teign

Oh, the Teign runs fast and free, lads, through the valley, through the rain
We’ll take our chance and take our keep on the River Teign again
By the stars and by the silence, by the old Dartmoor refrain
We are the bold Dartmoor poachers on the River Teign again

There are wardens on the high paths, there are laws writ hard as stone
But hunger’s an old companion and the river’s never owned
We give thanks to soil and water, take no more than we can gain
Leave the banks as we found them, say a prayer to River Teign

Oh, the Teign runs fast and free, lads, through the valley, through the rain
We’ll take our chance and take our keep on the River Teign again
By the stars and by the silence, by the old Dartmoor refrain
We are the bold Dartmoor poachers on the River Teign again

When the dawn breaks red on Cosdon and the blackbirds start to sing
We’ll be gone like drifting shadows, with the stories that we bring
Raise a cup in smoky kitchens, let the old tunes entertain
Here’s to moor and mate and memory, and the wild, wide River Teign

Oh, the Teign runs fast and free, lads, through the valley, through the rain
We’ll take our chance and take our keep on the River Teign again
By the stars and by the silence, by the old Dartmoor refrain
We are the bold Dartmoor poachers on the River Teign again

Tom Pearce, Tom Pearce, lend me your grey mare
For Sticklepath’s steep and the road is unclear
For I want for to go
To Widecombe Fair
With Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk
And Uncle Tom Cobley and all
Uncle Tom Cobley and all

And when shall I see again my grey mare?
For Sticklepath’s cold and I need my beer
By Friday soon, or Saturday noon
With Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk
And Uncle Tom Cobley and all
Uncle Tom Cobley and all

So they harnessed and bridled the old grey mare.
From Sticklepath’s village they set forth that day
And off they drove to Widecombe fair
With Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk
And Uncle Tom Cobley and all
Uncle Tom Cobley and all

Then Friday came, and Saturday noon
And Sticklepath’s road was alight in the sun
But Tom Peers old mare hath not trotted home
With Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk
And Uncle Tom Cobley and all
Uncle Tom Cobley and all

So Tom Peers, he got up to the top o' the hill
From Sticklepath’s dale he climbed to the tor
And he seed his old mare down a-making her will
With Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk
And Uncle Tom Cobley and all
Uncle Tom Cobley and all

So Tom Peers old mare, her took sick and died.

And Sticklepath knew she wouldn't be back
So Tom he sat down on a stone, and he cried
With Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk
And Uncle Tom Cobley and all
Uncle Tom Cobley and all Uncle Tom Cobley and all.

But this isn't the end o' this shocking affair.
For Sticklepath’s miller or everyone there
Nor, though they be dead, of the horrid career
Of Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk
And Uncle Tom Cobley and all
Uncle Tom Cobley and all

When the wind whistles cold on the moor of the night.
And Sticklepath’s bathed in the moon's soft glow
Tom Peers old mare doth appear ghastly white
With Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk
And Uncle Tom Cobley and all
Uncle Tom Cobley and all

And all the long night be heard skirling and groans
In Sticklepath’s inns and the stables of old
From Tom Peers old mare in her rattling bones
With Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk
And Uncle Tom Cobley and all
Uncle Tom Cobley and all and
Uncle Tom Cobley and all

Three hares born in a holy cave
Where incense curled as the mountain cooled
By flickering lamps and a dancing wave
In the land of temples and ancient moons

From painted stones where their spirits grew
They leapt at dusk on a silver thread
The Silk Road drawing to stories new
The moon their guide, they raised their heads

As they run, they spin and wind
Searching for a life divine
Round and round their ears entwined
Sacred hares with amber eyes

Drawn to Dartmoor where the hammers sing
Where water runs cold through moorland streams
The hares watch closely as the men draw tin
And find their way into miners’ dreams

They guard the vein, the chisel’s strike
The candle flickering through the night
When men grow tired and the cold winds bite
The hares are there in watchful sight

Round and round, their ears entwined
Looking out for those who mined
They fight the moor, they risk their lives
Watched by hares with amber eyes

They sit with the women at pale moonrise
Where blood and breath and tides align
They feel the changes hear the cries
They trace the circles of women’s lives

They leap in rhythm with beating hearts
In waxing, waning stark moonlight
Into women the girls depart
Guiding gently through changing night

Round and round, in moonlit time
Keepers of the sacred line
Guard the girls as cycles rise
Spinning soft with amber eyes

Now they rest where the Taw runs clear
By Chagford’s stones and market square
They twitch their ears as folks draw near
Traveller, neighbour, wanderer, hare

On every tor and ancient way
In mist that drifts from valley deep
They watch by night and watch by day
Dartmoor’s souls they safely keep

They watch the walkers who cross the moor
And miners’ ghosts in the racing leat
From church to mine to home and tor
Light as wind on padded feet

Round and round, their ears entwined
Guarding all with secret sighs
On wild Dartmoor neath moonlit skies
Ever watchful, amber eyes

Boots sink deep in the sucking peat
Sky all granite
Low and mean
Map got soaked
Compass gone
Only crunch of grit and the crows for song
Breath hangs white in the biting breeze
Gorse claws threads from my sleeves
Then there
Where the ground turns old
A green so bright it looks like gold

Goblin’s Gold
Shining where the wild winds roll
Tiny lanterns in the cold
Gold
Thought it was a fairytale they told
Till the moor lit up like ancient souls
Goblin’s Gold

Kneel down close
Let my fingers brush
Every bead a bottled dusk
Glow wakes slow where the shadows lean
Like it’s breathing underneath the seam
Parent’s voice from a childhood bed
“Follow lights and you’ll lose your head”
But lost feels fine with my heart this full
In the damp
In the dark
In the beautiful

Goblin’s Gold
Shining where the wild winds roll
Tiny lanterns in the cold
Gold
Thought it was a fairytale they told
Till the moor lit up like ancient souls
Goblin’s Gold

Don’t speak loud
Or it might fade
Just stand still in this dim-lit cave
Of heather
Stone
And ancient rain
Of all I’ve chased
I’ll keep this flame
Not silver
Not emerald in a ring
Just this soft
Impossible thing

Goblin’s Gold
Shining where the wild winds roll
Tiny lanterns in the cold
Gold
Thought it was a fairytale they told
Till the moor lit up like ancient souls
Goblin’s Gold

Boots sink
In sponge-soft ground
Breath in the cold
Hangs pale then gone
Stone wall leaning
Into the wind
Ravens tracing black
Through a silver dawn

Mist and bracken
Holding fast to the hill
World gone quiet
Every breath standing still
Name it Dartmoor
Like a spell that you cast
Mist and bracken
And a year that’s passed

Gate latch clacks
Sharp in the hush
Ponies lift their heads
Then stare through the blur
Fern-fronds lacquered
In a skin of ice
Sky like slate
In paradise

Mist and bracken
Holding fast to the hill
World gone quiet
Every breath standing still
Name it Dartmoor
Like a spell that you cast
Mist and bracken
And a year that’s passed

On this high wet moor
Every path feels old
Every step I take
Finds another ghost
Say you’ll meet me
Where the heather meets the frost
If you feel the love
Then solitude is lost

Mist and bracken
Holding fast to the hill
World gone quiet
Every breath standing still
Name it Dartmoor
Like a spell that you cast
Mist and bracken
And a year that’s passed

Autumn, the drum of hoofbeats sounds
Ponies gather, chase the moorland ground
The drift begins; I stop to watch the scene
A wild chase over rock and muddy ravine

Pounding hooves echo wide
Racing hearts with every stride
Herds gallop like thunderbolts
Flushed from gorse, fillies and colts

A herd on the ridge looks up from their graze
Spots their kin and answers with neighs
Instinct calls; they quicken the pace
In a moment they too are part of the chase

Pounding hooves echo wide
Racing hearts with every stride
Herds gallop like thunderbolts
Flushed from gorse, fillies and colts

Through golden bracken to the old stone wall
Riders guide them, dogs bark at the call
The gallop slows, settles into a trot
Funnelled through the gap, they find their spot

Pounding hooves echo wide
Racing hearts with every stride
Herds gallop like thunderbolts
Flushed from gorse, fillies and colts

Untamed and wild, the moor, your gift
Each autumn I stand and watch the pony drift

Wolf moon rises
Thinning out the scattered stars
Cold glare cuts the sky
Sharp as breath in the dark
Are they bare oak branches
Or frozen cracks in the earth
Dead hazel in the hedge row
Or something fighting for birth

The Wolf moon rises
Higher and higher
Glowing bright
Lunar powered
Turn this dirt to pale white fire
Glowing bright
Glowing brighter
Early riser
Sky devourer
Glowing bright
Lunar powered
Bathing in the light
I drown

That shape on the hillside
Rears up from the drifted white
Is it just old timber
Or a dragon taking flight
Tracks at the field edge
Just shadows in the frost
Or a hungry thing that circles
Every promise that we’ve lost

Bare bones
Black bark
Names we never said out loud
Dead wood
Life’s spark
All lit up by you now
You turn doubt into silver
Every question in my mind

The Wolf moon rises
Higher and higher
Glowing bright
Lunar powered
Turn this dirt to pale white fire
Glowing bright
Glowing brighter
Early riser
Sky devourer
Glowing bright
Lunar powered
Bathing in the light
I drown

My ladye hath a sable coach
And horses two and four
My ladye hath a black blood-hound
That runneth on before

My ladye’s coach hath nodding plumes
The driver hath no head
My ladye is an ashen white
As one that long is dead

Now pray step in, my ladye saith
Now pray step in and ride.
I thank thee, I had rather walk
Than gather by thy side

My ladye hath a sable coach
And horses two and four
My ladye hath a black blood-hound
That runneth on before

The wheels go round without a sound
Or tramp or turn of wheels
As cloud at night, in pale moonlight
Along the carriage steals

I’d rather walk a hundred miles
And run by night and day
Than have the carriage halt for me
And hear the ladye say

Now pray step in, and make no din
Step in with me and ride
There’s room I trow, by me for you
And all the world beside

My ladye hath a sable coach
And horses two and four
My ladye hath a black blood-hound
That runneth on before

Daffodil, on the wall, delicate amongst the strong
A quiet flare of yellow where the shadows linger long
New life softly stirring after winter’s endless night
A promise held in petals, waking gently to the light

It was placed upon the rock by a steady loving hand
A tender kind of tribute only hearts can understand
A memory of what has passed, of moments held in mind
Promising a world to come in golden summertime

Daffodil, on the wall, you lie where shadows fall
Rooted in the roughness, rising fearless through it all
You carry what was lost, and the hope of what may be
A bloom of fragrant promise with such heart felt artistry

Days lengthen in their quiet way but you lie in your seam
A touch of early spring like an old forgotten dream
Though your stem is fragile, your message still rings clear
Even in the wildest place, new beginnings can appear

Daffodil, on the wall, you stand where stories fall
Rooted in the fragile, rising fearless through it all
You carry what was lost, and the hope of what may be
A bloom of fragrant promise with such fine-wrought artistry

A daffodil, on the wall, delicate amongst the strong
A memory of yesterday, a spur to carry on

Mists drifted low on granite tors
Where foals took their first short steps
Gorse bloomed gold by the heathered moors
And skylarks rose with soft duets
Streams ran quick with the flood of rain
Dartmoor woke, life did restart
Spring returned to the open plain
With hope as strong as in my heart

Sunlight sprawled on the endless heath
Warm winds carried the cries of crows
Ponies sheltered in shade beneath
Ancient oaks where the river slowed
Long days stretched past the endless sky
Bracken whispered where shadows play
Summer shimmered and drifted on by
A fleeting dream of a golden day

Bronze leaves danced on the rugged trails
Storm clouds gathered with sudden might
Heather faded under cooling gales
And dusk came sooner each fading night
Cattle roamed through the moorland brown
Fog rolled in from the distant sea
Autumn settled like worn-down crown
A gentle, sombre majesty

Frost bit hard at the granite stones
Snow drifted over the struggling paths
Winds howled tales in their ancient tones
And rivers slowed in the winter’s grasp
Yet still the moor held a quiet grace
A silent strength in the bitter cold

Seasons wheel as the years turn round
Each one teaching what time imparts
Change is woven in sky and ground
And echoed deep in our shifting hearts
Dartmoor stands through the rise and fall
Through bloom, through storm, through calm and strife
Reminding us we’re a part of all
The turning seasons that shape our life