Glorious Devon

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(Edward German / Sir. Harold Boulton)

Al Bowlly acc. by George Scott-Wood (pno.)

Coombe and Tor, green meadow and lane
Birds on the waving bough
Beetling cliffs by the surging main
Rich red loam for the plough
Devon's the fount of the bravest blood
That braces England's breed
Her maidens fair as the apple bud
And her men are men indeed

When Adam and Eve were dispossess'd
Of the Garden hard by Heaven
They planted another one down in the West
'Twas Devon, 'twas Devon, glorious Devon

Spirits to old-world heroes wake
By river and cove and hoe
Grenville, Hawkins, Raleigh and Drake
And a thousand more we know
To every land the wide world o'er
Some slips of the old stock roam
Loyal friends in peace, dread foes in war
With hearts still true to home

Old England's counties by the sea
From east to west are seven
But the gem of that fair galaxy
Is Devon, is Devon, glorious Devon

Dorset, Somerset, Cornwall, Wales
May envy the likes of we
For the flower of the West, the first, the best
The pick of the bunch us be
Squab pie, junket and cider brew
Richest cream of the cow'
What 'ud Old England without 'em do?
And where 'ud 'un be to now?

As crumpy as a lump of lead
Be a loaf without good leaven
And the yeast Mother England do use for her bread
Be Devon, be Devon, glorious Devon

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