Tag Archives: Cornwall

“Have you seen Lostwithiel?” – Revisited (to check it’s still there).

This is what it looks like.

Lostwithiel should be Foundwithiel;

do you see?

The story is:

We put up posters here

We put up posters there

“Has anybody seen our Lostwithiel?

Is that it over there? No.”

We did the rounds.

Upon the grounds

that as it was quite big finding it should be easy

like the finding of a twig in a forest – oh! That’s not good,

it’s like trying to find a specific tree within an unknown wood.

But, to cut a long story short,

as a practical poet really ought:

Lostwithiel was where it should have been all along,

the direction that we had been looking in,

that was what was wrong.

“We found Lostwithiel,

Lostwithiel was found!


The Cornish Cheesemen (the Cornish Men of Cheese)

The two Cornish (Kernewek) Cheesemen were hunched over the Cheeseboard, playing Cheese, or ‘Keus!’ as they called it.

Sixteen (hwetek) pieces of Cheese (Keus) each, and then let the game of Cheese (Keus!) commence.

Not sure of the rules, but who needs rules when you have that much Cheese (Keus!)

“Spare a chip for a hungry gull?”

He, or she,

asked me,

ever so humbly,

for a chip.

I obliged,

as I am won’t to do.

Within seconds

there was a hullabaloo!

Gulls came flying down

from above –

the call had gone around the town,


The Unique Unicornwall

I have a title

and that’s not all,

I have mixed up Unicorn

with the place Cornwall;

that must be unique,

one of a kind,

from a creative genius

with a lentil mind.

Derreck Lee was a Cornishman

Derreck Lee was a Cornishman

who lived in Stozzle Town,

he pastied away eventually

but they couldn’t pin him down.


They buried him in Truro,

parts of him in Roche;

where now he is a monument

that no one dares approach.


Derreck was a hero,

a maverick and a fool;

he declared himself the unknown king

of Par, and Pelynt, and Pool.


Derreck Lee was a Cornishmen

and one he’ll always be;

but he was not a king or anything

to do with royalty.

Ny wonn vy

Ny wonn vy,


Ytho, my a leverel,

‘Meur ras!’


Translates as:

I don’t know

‘Thank you,’,

so, I just say


“Well, it’s not Cornwall!”

We looked up at the pyramids. Caught in their majesty. Awed by their stature.

“Well, it’s not Cornwall!” I said.

There was agreement all round, and so off we went to check out the Sphinx

An skonsen skeusen yn skon

What does it all mean?

Not just the title above,

but life itself?

A picture of a scone, soon,

might be trite –

as is much that I write –

but is it any different

from all else that will suffice

to be the stuff

that nightmares

are made on?


Please excuse my wittering

(I can witter at will)

and take this from my words:

‘If you have just received

a picture of a scone

through the post,

it has probably already arrived.’

May your dydh be da

May your dydh be da

your dy’Sul howlyek hag sygh;

lowenhe bewnans.


dydh = day

da = good

dy’Sul =Sunday

howlyek = sunny

ha / hag = and

sygh = dry

lowenhe = enjoy

bewnans = life / living

War an Voos

“War an Voos”

Not a missive from Tolstoy,

but a possible name

for something or other

that I might

or might not do.

It might mean something to me,

but probably little to you.

War an Voos

is ‘on the table’

and can be used as such.

I like the idea,

but can I put it into practice,

or should I kick it

into touch?