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OH!
the winding road to Cardigan,
And the sun on the waving trees,
Where the slanting ray in the dwindling day
Deepens the shade in the woodland way,
And summons the wakening breeze.
Oh!
the shimmering light on Teivy's wave,
As the sun-kissed riplets pass
Through the murmuring meads by the rustling reeds,
Where the sky-dropped fabric of sparkling beads
Gleams on the dew-bow'd grass.
Oh! the waters swirling on Teivy's rocks,
By the bridge on the Cenarth road,
Oh!
the foam-crest white in the noonday bright
And the gloomy pool in the pall of night,
The Naiad's cool abode.
There
is never a spot in Cardigan,
from its hills to its sea-washed caves,
Like that golden vale with its waters pale
That ripple along through the tree-decked dale
To welcome the waiting waves.
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