RHONDDA
Once more through ground of hardened clay tread feet still moist from sand and valley coal,
From land where father’s tears converge, this land that was my home.
Where gnarled and twisted ancient trees point to where the traveler roams, amongst these newly planted firs.
My head and heart so far astray.
This land of Wales where mountains flash their vivid greens, deeper yet than dreams I’ve ever known,
Oh Valley soil, my heart will ever be returning to my Great Grandfathers home.