While The Billy BoilsSearchJasmine and woodbine and rose o’ red,And maybloom drifted on scented gales,O for the song of a season fled!Devonport dales! Devonport dales!For the scent that flies and the song that fails,Like a windy sunset in golds and brownsWhere a lingering glamour of crimson trails,Devonport downs! Devonport downs!
Summer and summer have sped and spedO’er green and gold of the gorsy vales,Where Mersey moans in his seaward bed,Devonport dales! Devonport dales!Winters have loitered like laggard snailsWhere the upland glooms and the headland frowns,And the white gull wheels and a wet wind wails,Devonport downs! Devonport downs!
And its O! to dream on the hazed hill head,And its O! for the glint o’ the warm brown sails,And the wakes inwoven like wizard’s thread,Devonport dales! Devonport dales!For rock-pool revels and faery grails,For the seas that thresh and the surf that drowns,Where the white floor shakes to the emerald flails,Devonport downs! Devonport downs!
Still the blue hills shimmer, the blown rose pales,Devonport dales! Devonport dales!Where kiss-me-quicks flaunted their garnet gowns,Devonport downs! Devonport downs!