Cornwall -

As the hound obeys the hunters' horn call

So I’m called back home to Cornwall

For that’s where my heart lies buried

'Neath the standing stone

Where a white cross on a black field standing

Proudly waves above the landing place

Beneath the rugged cliffs of Cornwall, my true love

Broken images of memories awaken in my bones

When I do recall the land I left behind that was my home

Sailing out from Falmouth bay way back in nineteen-eighty-three

Green behind the ears, just fifteen years of age, well that was me

Like a fool searching for freedom, roving further far and wide

I set out but I did not return upon the running tide

Where the timeless cliffs resound with mournful echoes of the cries

Of fearless seabirds chasing storm clouds though the silver sky

From the all-night clubs of west Berlin to lonely Pyrenees

From chaotic squats in Amsterdam to New World 'cross the sea

From the forests of New Hampshire to the streets of London Town

Though I loved each place, I could not stay, forever homeward bound

Where the gorse and foxglove dance and sway upon the rolling moors

And the sea wind blow her emerald kiss from north to southern shore

Where a song of stone sings out in-tune to transatlantic waves

If I could but hear that song again, my soul it would be saved

When I die as we must do one and all

Send my body home to Cornwall

Place my bones down with my heart

Beneath the standing stone

Put white cross on black field standing

On my coffin then I’ll finally rest in peace

Within the arms of KERNOW, my true love