Listen to the track:
🎵 Wembury, 1841
(Verse 1)
In forty-one, down Wembury lane
Twelve doors stood in a weathered chain
Alms Houses by the chapel wall
Held those with nothing much at all
(Verse 2)
Betty Algate swept her step
Jenny Hatch by the fire slept
She’d seen ninety winters pass
Still sharp as broken glass
(Chorus)
The fields roll down to meet the sea
The wind cuts deep no life was free
From cradle to grave, by work and way
That’s how Wembury earned its day
(Verse 3)
Ford Cottage, west beyond the hill
William Jackman laboured still
No plough to call, no name to show
Just hands and soil and seeds to sow
(Verse 4)
Langdon Cots, near moorland sky
Held boots and beds and porridge dry
No books or fire, just dusk and bread
And roofs of slate above each head
(Bridge)
Up the slope, the windows wide
Lace and loaves were kept inside
But down the lane, folk mended, prayed
And hoped their name would not decay
(Chorus)
The fields roll down to meet the sea
The tide holds truth, the land holds me
From Algate down to Hatch and Drew
The book kept count. The tales were true
(Outro)
The ink may fade, but stones remain
And footpaths call each name again
In forty-one, that working day
That's how Wembury earned its way