The nesting birds singing on the bushes and trees
And the sound of the bells of St Davids floating in the breeze
Above the potato fields from here far away
When the hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May
The tag of hard workers to them does apply
The potato pickers their backs bent to the Welsh sky
A hard enough way for to earn one's pay
In the twenty first century do Seasonal workers come to St Davids to pick potatoes in May
Or has modern machiney taken their place
And brought an end to the ways of the once known as tatie hoking race?
A Village with a Cathedral as Britain's smallest City it is widely known
St Davids in coastal Wales has a charm of it's own
And only the memories with me now remain
Of what used to be and will not be again.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
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