Words by Sir John Betjeman
Music by Mike Read
A mist that from the moor arose
In sea fog wraps Port Isaac Bay
The moan of warning from Trevose
Makes grimmer this October day
Tregardock
Tregardock
Tregardock
Only the shore and cliffs are clear
Gigantic slithering shelves of slate
In waiting awfulness appear
Like journalism full of hate
Oh oh oh, oh oh oh, oh oh oh
On the steep path a bramble leaf
Stands motionless and wet with dew
The grass bends down the bracken's brown
The grey-green gorse alone is new
Oh oh oh, oh oh oh, 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
Tregardock
Tregardock
Tregardock
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, oh oh oh, oh oh oh
The dunlin do not move
Each bird is stationary on the sand
As if a spirit in it heard
The final end of sea and land
Oh oh oh, oh oh oh, 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
Tregardock
Tregardock
Tregardock
A mist that from the moor arose
In sea fog wraps Port Isaac Bay
The moan of warning from Trevose
Makes grimmer this October day
Grimmer this October day
Grimmer this October day
It's grimmer this October day
Grimmer this October day