A mist that from the moor arose In Seafog Rap's Port Isaac Bay
The moan of warning from Travose Makes grimmer this October day
Trigarda Trigarda
Trigarda Only the shore and cliffs are clear
Gigantic slithering shelves of slate In waiting awfulness appear
Like journalism full of hate
Oh, oh, oh
On the sleep path a bramble leaf Stands motionless and wet with dew
The grass bends down,
the brackens brown The grey-green gorse alone is new
Oh, oh, oh
Cautious my sliding footsteps go To quarried rock and dripping cave
The ocean,
leaden still below Has hardly strength to lift a wave
Trigarda Trigarda Trigarda
I watch it crisp into its height And flap exhausted on the beach
The long surf menacing and white Hissing as far as it can reach
Oh, oh, oh
The dunling do not move
Each bird is stationary on the sand As if a spirit in it heard
The final end of seeing land Oh, oh, oh
And I on my volcano
edge Exposed to ridicule and hate
Still do not dare to leap the ledge And smash to pieces on the slate
Trigarda Trigarda
Trigarda Trigarda
I miss that from the morrows In seabog raps Port Isaac Bay
The moan of warning from Dravos Makes grimmer this October day