Far on the moor where the skylarks cry
Granite stands in endless sky
Heather rolls in a restless wave
Paths are lost where the wild winds rave

Fur Tor calls, through the mist and rain
Over the peat, and the wind-scoured plain
Distant, high, it pulls you near
Fur Tor calls, but the way’s not clear

Rivers twist through bog and mire
Hills rise black in the sun’s red fire
Every step feels the weight of time
Every breath saved for the climb

Hands on stone where the clouds drift low
Hear the tales only old rocks know
In the silence the moor takes hold
And the heart feels its fire and cold

Fur Tor calls, through the mist and rain
Over the peat, and the wind-scoured plain
Distant, high, it pulls you near
Fur Tor calls
But the way’s not clear

Down in the vale where the mist rolls low
And the granite hills guard the moorland’s glow
We’ve swung our picks in the rain and cold
For tin, for copper, and the dream of gold

The streams run black with the miner’s toil
Where the shafts plunge deep in the ancient soil
By lantern light and the echo’s call
We’ve worked the seams by the granite tors

Sing, boys, sing of the Dartmoor men
With hearts like oak and the strength of ten
Through wind and storm, through the frost and fold
We’ve chased the tin, the copper, and gold

Old Tom’s bones lie in Widdicombe ground
He swore he’d heard the lode’s sweet sound
Now we walk the path that the old ones tread
With the weight of the earth above our head

The moor may take and the moor may give
It shapes the way a man must live
And when we’re gone, let the tale be told
Of the Dartmoor miners and their veins of gold

Sing, boys, sing of the Dartmoor men
With hearts like oak and the strength of ten
Through wind and storm, through the frost and fold
We’ve chased the tin, the copper, and gold

Sing, boys, sing of the Dartmoor men
With hearts like oak and the strength of ten
Through wind and storm, through the frost and fold
We’ve chased the tin, the copper, and gold

We met one bright Autumn day
So suddenly like a ghost at play
Our eyes lock in a magic exchange
You standing there with flowing mane
Wild, untamed, a soul of the moor
Hooves that wander tor to tor

Those brown eyes spoke, said stand apart
Gallop to the beat of your own true heart
The moor’s your healer, your comfort, your home
In moorland breeze, you’re never alone

Wild pony so free you run with the wind
Born of the land you roam with your kin
Your beauty softens your granite home
To wander the moor is all you have known

Those brown eyes spoke, said stand apart
Gallop to the beat of your own true heart
The moor’s your healer, your comfort, your home
In moorland breeze, you’re never alone

A flowing gold mane your spirit is free
To roam the wild moor under star canopy
Where shall you go, gallop fast in the wind
Your map of the moor, locked deep within

Those brown eyes spoke, they said stay strong
This is where you truly belong
The moor’s your healer, your comfort, your home
In moorland breeze, you’re never alone

High above the Teign’s swift flow
Where the heathers softly grow
A father built in grief and pride
A stone-bound place where prayers abide

The granite walls stand proud and tall
Where the moor winds sing and call
In the chapel’s quiet glow
Love outlives the storm and squall

The bell will toll through mist and rain
For hearts that never came again
Names are carved, yet voices fade
Still their memory will not decay

The granite walls stand proud and tall
Where the moor winds sing and call
In the chapel’s quiet glow
Love outlives the storm and squall

So travellers pause and bow the head
Among the living, with the dead
In Drogo’s walls the silence keeps
A prayer for peace while Dartmoor sleeps

The granite walls stand proud and tall
Where the moor winds sing and call
In the chapel’s quiet glow
Love outlives the storm and squall

High on the heather, the morning is clear
A song lifts the silence, so wild and near
Over the granite, the old winds roam
The skylark is calling the moorland home

Skylark, skylark, singing in the air
Carry my spirit where the clouds drift fair
Over the tor and the river so free
Your song is the song of the wild in me

Sun on the bracken, shadows that fall
Echoes of ponies and curlew’s call
The heart of the moor beats steady and strong
Guided by skylark’s wandering song

Skylark, skylark, singing in the air
Carry my spirit where the clouds drift fair
Over the tor and the river so free
Your song is the song of the wild in me

Mist on the valley, silver and pale
Ancient paths winding, a timeless trail
Yet still above, through the shifting blue
The skylark is singing the whole day through

Evening is falling, the light drifts away
Still in the twilight the skylarks play
And when the night cloaks the moorland wide
Their freedom still echoes, deep inside

Skylark, skylark, singing in the air
Carry my spirit where the clouds drift fair
Over the tor and the river so free
Your song is the song of the wild in me

High on Dartmoor’s granite face, where wild the rivers run
Men with pick and barrow rose to greet the morning sun
Through heather, bog, and bracken deep, they carved a water’s way
To feed the towns and dockyard ships that wait in Plymouth Bay

Carry the water, clear and strong
Over the moor it winds along
Through hill and hollow, stone by stone
The Devonport Leat to Plymouth flows

The moor wind cut, the rain it fell, the granite would not yield
Yet steady hands and weary backs turned pasture into field
A channel drawn by human will, where once the ponies strayed
A living vein of silver threads the land their labour made

Carry the water, clear and strong
Over the moor it winds along
Through hill and hollow, stone by stone
The Devonport Leat to Plymouth flows

They spoke of bread for family, of wages hard but fair
Of children waiting far below, and wives in humble care
Each strike of iron sang aloud, each stone was set with pride
For ships at sea and folk at home, the leat would be their guide

Carry the water, clear and strong
Over the moor it winds along
Through hill and hollow, stone by stone
The Devonport Leat to Plymouth flows

Now moss has grown where tools once rang, the heather hides the scars
But still the water finds its course beneath the watching stars
And those who walk the moorland paths may hear the old refrain
Of voices in the Dartmoor wind that built the leat by hand

Carry the water, clear and strong
Over the moor it winds along
Through hill and hollow, stone by stone
The Devonport Leat to Plymouth flows

The wind howls like a wolf that’s lost
Stone walls bite with a winter’s frost
No trees no sky just grey on grey
A barren world where hope won’t stay

Dartmoor prison
It swallows men whole
Takes your body and chews your soul
No escape no light no sound
Just echoes of the damned all around

The rain cuts like a jagged knife
Each drop feels like it’s carving life
The moor stretches wide a sea of despair
And every breath tastes of the heavy air

Isolated dreams they crumble to dust
In this iron cage all I’ve got is rust
Harsh whispers of freedom they taunt they tease
But the moor has no mercy no reprieve no release

Dartmoor prison
It swallows men whole
Takes your body and chews your soul
No escape no light no sound
Just echoes of the damned all around

Desolate hearts forgotten names
Locked in a place where no one claims
Dartmoor’s grip it never lets go
A shadowland where nothing can grow

In a ring of mossy granite where the river winds and slows
Silver pools lie quiet where the moonlight softly glows
They dance on mossy carpets, their lanterns gently gleam
Then slip away like whispers that drift along the stream

Pixies of the woodland, Dartmoor’s hidden kin
You can only see them when you let the magic in
They sing and dance in Belstone cleave
But to see them first you must believe

From the moor down through the cleave
The river  bends and breaks
The pixies whisper secrets by the pools while the river snakes
Pixies skim the water’s skin with laughter like the rain
But vanish in the ripples when the people come again

Pixies of the woodland, Dartmoor’s hidden kin
You can only see them when you let the magic in
They sing and dance in Belstone cleave
But to see them first you must believe

Granite spires of ancient fire, moss like velvet crowns
Faint light on boulders where the mist comes drifting down
Touch the stones and feel them hum with the secrets of their souls
And know that they are near, when lightning strikes and the thunder rolls

Pixies of the woodland, Dartmoor’s hidden kin
You can only see them when you let the magic in
They sing and dance in Belstone cleave
But to see them first you must believe
We could see them if we’d just believe
We could see them if we’d just believe
You can see them if you’d just believe
You’d just believe
Just believe

Step by step, we bear the load
Through the mist, along the road
On we go, where shadows tread
Along the Way, the Way of the Dead

Across the moor, the cold winds bit
Grey dawn fades, to falling night
Hands hold firm, the burden lies
Under the watch of silent skies

Traveller’s Ford, the waters rise
Rain-cloud tears from mourning skies
Through the flood, we make our way
Voices low, we will not stray

Across the moor, the cold winds bite
Grey dawn fades, to falling night
Hands hold firm, the burden lies
Under the watch of silent skies

Coffin Wood, so dark, so still
Roots reach out, the air grows chill
Footsteps echo, prayers are said
Guiding the path of the silent dead

Across the moor, the cold winds bite
Grey dawn fades, to falling night
Hands hold firm, the burden lies
Under the watch of silent skies

Final stones, the church bells call
Resting place, the end of all
Lay him down, the journey done
Dust to dust, the soul has gone

By the river’s bend where the shadows lie
Stood a giant wheel reaching for the sky
Turning with the water, steady and strong
Now the stream runs silent, though it once sang a song

Overgrown and hidden, where the ivy weaves its claim
Only ghosts remember, only whispers speak its name
The wheel is gone, but the river keeps its flow
Skaig still holds the memory of what we used to know

Children once gathered by the wooden frame
Watching iron teeth bite the river’s flame
The hum of the labour, the heartbeat of the land
Now only moss and bramble hold it in their hand

Overgrown and hidden, where the ivy weaves its claim
Only ghosts remember, only whispers speak its name
The wheel is gone, but the river keeps its flow
Skaig still holds the memory of what we used to know

Seasons roll like the spokes that turned
Iron to rust, and wood to fern
Yet in the hush, you can almost hear
The grinding song of yesteryear

Overgrown and hidden, where the ivy weaves its claim
Only ghosts remember, only whispers speak its name
The wheel is gone, but the river keeps its flow
Skaigh still holds the memory of what we used to know

Bronze Age men walked the hills so bare
Chasing the glint of tin in the air
Stone in hand
Dreams to spin
They built for the gods
They buried their kin

Circles of stone
Whispers in the breeze
Rows like veins in the earth's mysteries

They came to visit
They stayed for years
Singing to the moon
Laughing through fears
Tin on the moor
A promise, a guide
Living with the spirits
The hills as their bride

Fires burned
Under skies so wide
Stories carved where the shadows hide
Their echoes linger
Their marks remain
Dartmoor remembers their joy and pain

Did they know they'd be legends of the land
With tools of bronze and a steady hand
Each stone a question
Each row a song
In the winds of Dartmoor
They still belong

They came to visit
They stayed for years
Singing to the moon
Laughing through fears
Tin on the moor
A promise, a guide
Living with the spirits
The hills as their bride

By Widecombe’s church she knelt alone
Her hand reached out and touched the stone
A moss-worn name she traced with care
Two hundred years, her kin lay there

She saw a moorman with hard hands
Drive his herd over granite lands
Furze and mist his daily bread
A roof of thatch above his head

The moorman’s wife she climbs the stile
Gathers her skirts to walk the mile
Teaches children in the old stone barn
Ignites a wisdom and protects from harm

His daughter learned the moorland way
To weave in wool, to mend each day
Her laughter rang where ponies graze
And vanished with the smoky haze

A soldier son in scarlet trim
Rode to war, his face grew dim
He carried Dartmoor in his sack
And wrote of home, but ne’er came back
And wrote of home, but ne’er came back

A widow knelt in churchyard shade
She lit her lamp, alone she stayed
Through storm and famine did she wait
By chapel door, by chapel gate

The sea of time flows slow and wide
Each life a wave, each death a tide
She touched the stone, she felt the dream
In blood and bone, in tor and stream

She whispered soft, “I am your song
The moor has waited all along
It fills the chambers of my soul
It draws me back and makes me whole”

Her daughter nearby watched the scene
And felt the power of life unseen
Her heart was full, her eyes were bright
She knew the Dartmoor love was right
She knew the Dartmoor love was right

The past has passed, but is not gone
It merely heralds a new daw

Up on the hill where the wild winds call
Stands the old keep with its cold grey wall
They say it guards, but it feels like chains
And the moorland cries in the winter rains

Oh, Lydford Law, they’ll bind you fast
Judge you quick, then speak at last
First you’re hanged and then they try
Under Lidford’s watchful sky

A knock at your door in the dead of night
No time for plea, no time for fight
The jail is dark, and the air is thin
Where many have gone but few come in

Oh, Lydford Law, they’ll bind you fast
Judge you quick, then speak at last
First you’re hanged and then they try
Under Lidford’s watchful sky

The bailiff rides with the sheriff’s band
They take your goods, your fields, your land
The Lydford wind sings a bitter tune
And the gallows stand ‘neath the silver moon

Oh, Lydford Law, they’ll bind you fast
Judge you quick, then speak at last
First you’re hanged and then they try
Under Lidford’s watchful sky

So raise a glass in the Castle Inn
For the friends who’ve come and the ones who’ve been
And mind the law when it rides your way
In Lydford town, you’ll have no say

Oh, Lydford Law, they’ll bind you fast
Judge you quick, then speak at last
First you’re hanged and then they try
Under Lidford’s watchful sky

She wandered the moor in a stormy haze
The wind whispered soft through the heather maze
Her shadow fell long
Then it vanished away
Was it sorrow or love that made her stray

Oh she sings when the moon is full and bright
Her voice a thread through the endless night
Lost in the mist where the secrets are
The haunting hymn of the ghost on the moor

The moss held her story
The bracken her tears
A place where the wild forgets the years
The stars blinked out
The clouds rolled thin
And her song began where the world had been

Why did she go
Where does she hide
In the moor's cold breath or the river's tide

Oh she sings when the moon is full and bright
Her voice a thread through the endless night
Lost in the mist where the secrets are
The haunting hymn of the ghost on the moor

Her melody lingers
A shiver
A sigh
It dances with crows in the ink-stained sky
No footprints remain
No path to explore
Just the echo of her heart on the high bleak moor

I’ve wandered through the city’s blaze
Where towers shine and people race
But through the noise, I hear the call
Of granite tors, still standing tall

I’ve sailed where foreign oceans gleam
Blue waters glisten, like a dream
Yet none can match the gentle streams
That thread through moorland’s mist and seams

For Dartmoor keeps my heart in thrall
Its heathered hills, its skylark’s call
Though far I roam, I’m not alone
For Dartmoor holds my heart at home

The bracken turns to autumn gold
The rivers sing, the air is cold
The curlew cries across the sky
And draws me back, I can’t deny

Though other places tempt my stride
With promise deep and roads stretched wide
The compass points, the journey ends
Where Dartmoor waits—my first, my friend

For Dartmoor keeps my heart in thrall
Its heathered hills, its skylark’s call
Though far I roam, I’m not alone
For Dartmoor holds my heart at home

For Dartmoor keeps my heart in thrall
Its heathered hills, its skylark’s call
Though far I roam, I’m not alone
For Dartmoor holds my heart at home
For Dartmoor holds my heart at home