Tag Archives: #Tamar

“Enough! Enough!” said the Cornish Chough.

“Enough! Enough!” said the Cornish Chough.

“I’ve seen it all, from blag to bluff,

from Land’s End

to the Tamar’s tuff,

all around the county!”

spoke the Cornish Chough –

in a voice, some say,

that seemed rather rough.

The Eastern Coast of Cornwall

The Eastern Coast of Cornwall,

beyond which

daemons and devils lurk,

and strange-looking types

wander about;

these weird natives are always restless,

haunting the borderlands

in hope of a crossing.

Luckily for us, few can swim,

and those that endeavour

the attempt to reach our shores

are rebuffed by the sound of our mock applause.

Still they will try

to cross over,

which is why

we have put up signs saying,

‘🔙 This way to Dover’.

A Poem For a Devonian Poetry Evening.

A Poem For a Devonian Poetry Evening.

East Cornwall is East Cornwall

and West Devon is West Devon

and never the Twain shall meet,

apart from along the length of the Tamar;

and that bit up near Bude

(which isn’t technically East Cornwall);

but, you know where I mean,

that bit where the road takes you through about a mile of Devon:

take my word, when I say

that my cry of: ‘I was only going to the garden centre!’ is often heard

whenever we choose to go that way.

As for Plymouth…

well, it is its own special place,

kingdom, province, municipality,

and in all probability

is twinned with an enclave

of Plymovians in Inner Mongolia or Outer Space.

Plympton, on the other hand,

Is a different kettle of fish;

the people there are very nice

they have happy, smiling faces,

freely give concise advice

donate generously to charity,

take many courses on crochet and pottery;

and they are especially keen

on supporting local poetry.

In fact, I have heard, that once

they even applauded a visitor from Cornwall at their poetry recital

when his poem was done.

Crossing the Tamar

Intro: As you may or may not know

I come from Cornwall


And four generations ago;

When, back in the 1860s my Great, Great Grandfather took his family East and in doing so found themselves…

Crossing The Tamar

It is certainly not

A crossing of the Rubicon;

And I am no Julius Caesar.

I have not brought my army with me

And it is not 49BC.

But, the Crossing of the Tamar

Is a big deal to me

(And that is is in italics which is apt)

So much so,

That I am unrapt

When I pass the sign

That tells me that mine

Has been left

And now I am in your-

-I feel bereft;

However, I am sure

That the Plymouth Senate

Will not be so upset with me

As to call me traitor, insurrector, mongerer of war!

Though, hopefully I shall be banished;

And, soon, will have vanished

Back over the Tamar

Once more.