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Children of the Yealm
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Along the misted banks of the River Yealm, figures from another age begin to appear — a line of small, dark-haired children making their way down to the water. Barefoot and ragged, they carry sticks and fishing spears, moving quietly through the pale morning light. They gather at the river’s edge, where the tide laps against the mud and shells, unaware of the centuries that have passed. Watching from the present, it feels as if time itself has folded — and the ancient life of Wembury stirs again beneath the mist.
[Verse 1]
Down by the Yealm in the Wembury mist,
Shells in the mud, by the tide they twist.
Echoes of hands that lit the flame,
Whispering softly, calling my name.
[Chorus]
Children of the Yealm, I see you through the rain,
Dark-haired and barefoot, crossing time again.
Spears for the river, laughter for the sky,
Feeding from the water where the ages lie.
[Verse 2]
Climbing from the shore to the hut-ring high,
Where gold once slept beneath the rye.
They look my way, the air turns thin,
Worlds unfold and fold again within.
[Chorus]
Children of the Yealm, I see you through the rain,
Dark-haired and barefoot, crossing time again.
Spears for the river, laughter for the sky,
Feeding from the water where the ages lie.
[Verse 3]
The mist bends light, the centuries spin,
A shimmer between the now and then.
I reach out , but the moment’s gone,
Only the river keeps their song.
[Final Chorus]
Children of the Yealm, still walking to the tide,
Your footprints fade, but the waters bide.
Sweet ancient river, remember their names,
Flowing forever through the folds of time.
Flowing forever through the folds of time.
Flowing forever through the folds of time.
Flowing forever through the folds of time.
Flowing forever through the folds of time.