As the hound obeys the hunters' horn call So I'm called back home to Cornwall For that's where my heart lies buried 'Neath the standing stone Where a white cross on a black field standing Proudly waves above the landing place Beneath the rugged cliffs of Cornwall, my true love
Broken images of memories awaken in my bones When I do recall the land I left behind that was my home Sailing out from Falmouth bay way back in nineteen-eighty-three Green behind the ears, just fifteen years of age, well that was me
Like a fool searching for freedom, roving further far and wide I set out but I did not return upon the running tide Where the timeless cliffs resound with mournful echoes of the cries Of fearless seabirds chasing storm clouds though the silver sky
From the all-night clubs of west Berlin to lonely Pyrenees From chaotic squats in Amsterdam to New World 'cross the sea From the forests of New Hampshire to the streets of London Town Though I loved each place, I could not stay, forever homeward bound
Where the gorse and foxglove dance and sway upon the rolling moors And the sea wind blow her emerald kiss from north to southern shore Where a song of stone sings out in-tune to transatlantic waves If I could but hear that song again, my soul it would be saved
When I die as we must do one and all Send my body home to Cornwall Place my bones down with my heart Beneath the standing stone Put white cross on black field standing On my coffin then I'll finally rest in peace Within the arms of KERNOW, my true love