From the moors of Blaen Rhymni down to the leaning wall
Of Caerphilly Castle you shall hear the same accents
Of sorrow and mirth and pride, and a vague belief
That the future shall be greater than the past.
The man in the Rhondda Valley and the man in Abertillery
Have shared the same years, the same days of hope and desolation,
And in Ogmore Vale and in Ammanford both old and young dream
That the future shall be greater than the past.
On the ragged hills and by the shallow polluted rivers,
The pious young man and the old rascal of many sins,
The idealists and the wasters, all sometimes believe and say
That the future shall be greater than the past.
Mothers praying for sons away in the wars, and mothers waiting
On doorsteps and by firesides for men coming home from the pits,
And the old folks bent and scarred with years of toil, all sometimes hope
That the future shall be greater than the past.
Last night the moon was full above the slag heaps and the grave-yards
And the towns amongst the hills, and a man arose from his dream
And cried out: Let this day be sufficient, and worthy of my people
And let the night winds go on wailing of the future and the past.
by Idris Davies
Rambling At The Bridge Head 