Turn No More

In the places of my boyhood The pit-wheels turn no more Nor any furnace lightens The midnight as of yore The slopes of slag and cinder Are sulking in the rain And in derelict valleys The hope of youth is slain And yet I love to wander The early ways I went And watch from doors and bridges The hills and skies of Gwent In Gwalia, my Gwalia The vandals out of hell Ransacked and marred forever The wooded hill and dell They grabbed and bruised and plundered Because their greed was great And slunk away and purchased The medals of the state And yet I love to wander The early ways I went And watch from doors and bridges The hills and skies of Gwent Though blighted be the valleys Where man meets man with pain The things by boyhood cherished Stand firm and shall remain Though blighted be the valleys Where man meets man with pain The things by boyhood cherished Stand firm and shall remain Though blighted be the valleys Where man meets man with pain The things by boyhood cherished Stand firm and shall remain Though blighted be the valleys Where man meets man with pain The things by boyhood cherished Stand firm and shall remain Though blighted be the valleys Where man meets man with pain The things by boyhood cherished Stand firm and shall remain Though blighted be the valleys Where man meets man with pain The things by boyhood cherished Stand firm and shall remain Though blighted be the valleys Where man meets man with pain The things by boyhood cherished Stand firm and shall remain Though blighted be the valleys Where man meets man with pain The things by boyhood cherished Stand firm and shall remain Though blighted be the valleys Where man meets man with pain The things by boyhood cherished Stand firm and shall remain