(Sir Edward German (m) Sir Harold Boulton (l) 1905)
as recorded by Peter Dawson
with orchestra conducted by George W Byng
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 dispossessed
Of a garden hard by heaven,
They planted another one down in the west,
'Twas Devon, 'twas Devon, glorious Devon!
Spirits of 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,
Leal 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 lider brew,
Riches of cream from the cow,
What'd old England without 'em do,
And where'd it be to now?
As crumpy as a lump of lead
Be a loaf without good leaven,
But the yeast mother England do use for her bread
Be Devon, be Devon, glorious Devon!
(Transcribed by Peter Akers - August 2017)