Cornwall, at the tip of
England’s pastures green,
Soaring hills, golden shores,
Awesome sights to be seen.
Whitewashed houses everywhere scattered
Over landscape where King Tin once mattered.
In times gone by, the world’s tin provider,
Now only chimneys are reminders
Of the days when Cornwall led the world,
When miners toiled and died to show
That King Tin really mattered.
Viaducts, chimneys, railway bridges,
Left as witness to a legacy
Of a lost industry, once so
Vital and alive
Now gone, just an archive.
Yes King Tin really mattered.


  1. Cornwall still has the most endearing accent to my Yankee ears.
    You would never know the industrial heritage from watching Doc Martin in Port Wen.

    • Thank you for your comment. Cornwall is certainly a beautiful part of our country despite its industrial heritage. The remains of the mines are somehow endearing to me though and enhance the landscape rather than detract from it in a way.

  2. Recalling times past with an aching heart. It reminds me of:I am I said, to no one there. Really nice poem.

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