Crows Nest - Cornwall
Posted: Sun Apr 08, 2012 5:29 pm
MC Crows Nest
Located a few miles from Liskeard, Crows Nest typifies the old Cornish mining heritage. The Crows Nest Inn, formally the Sun Inn, appears to be, at the centre of village life. The track up to the disused mine is nearby. It is said that miners were paid in the mines own currency, which could only exchanges for goods locally. No doubt, much was spent over the bar.
Crows Nest, with its proximity to Bodmin Moor, is just a quiet out of the way place, which is good to visit, if for nothing else, a pint of beer in the Inn.
The Old Timer
His pocket watch, tells the time
When all was not well, in his life.
The day he went to war, was fine,
But he missed his dear wife.
Artillery shells rained upon the Somme,
As his played out, his duty bound.
It was not here, he did belong,
But home in Cornwall, safe and sound.
To drink a pint of half and half
At the bar of the old Sun Inn,
A game of dominoes, to cheer and laugh,
Seemed so near but just so far.
The Cornish moor, he yearns to be,
In dear Crows Nest, past yonder hill.
But for now, just wait and see,
For friend and foe, he bids no ill.
As he sits, and looks once more,
His watch face, tells a tale.
He is now safe, behind the door,
At the bar, with his dear ale.
Life grows old for him, you know,
A face now wrinkled, with his age.
He is not quick, but rather slow,
Reflects his life, before turning his last page.
Located a few miles from Liskeard, Crows Nest typifies the old Cornish mining heritage. The Crows Nest Inn, formally the Sun Inn, appears to be, at the centre of village life. The track up to the disused mine is nearby. It is said that miners were paid in the mines own currency, which could only exchanges for goods locally. No doubt, much was spent over the bar.
Crows Nest, with its proximity to Bodmin Moor, is just a quiet out of the way place, which is good to visit, if for nothing else, a pint of beer in the Inn.
The Old Timer
His pocket watch, tells the time
When all was not well, in his life.
The day he went to war, was fine,
But he missed his dear wife.
Artillery shells rained upon the Somme,
As his played out, his duty bound.
It was not here, he did belong,
But home in Cornwall, safe and sound.
To drink a pint of half and half
At the bar of the old Sun Inn,
A game of dominoes, to cheer and laugh,
Seemed so near but just so far.
The Cornish moor, he yearns to be,
In dear Crows Nest, past yonder hill.
But for now, just wait and see,
For friend and foe, he bids no ill.
As he sits, and looks once more,
His watch face, tells a tale.
He is now safe, behind the door,
At the bar, with his dear ale.
Life grows old for him, you know,
A face now wrinkled, with his age.
He is not quick, but rather slow,
Reflects his life, before turning his last page.