The waves rolled the pebbles along,
Rolled and wiped everything out.
The waves rolled and crashed onto the cliffs.
People in Lyonesse had known it long,
Furious sea, storms blowing out...
Sailors used to being driven adrift...

Lyonesse lay beyond
Land's End and was the pride of the region :
Fine cities, hundreds of chruches...
A whole country nestled in the sea.

Yet on this dreadful November day of 1099,
The storm was stronger, the waves rose higher than the belfries.
People screaming, people fearing this water plague smelling of death.

That day the sea swallowed up the whole land of Lyonesse.

As the waves crashed on the land,
A white horse ran.
On his back sat Trevilian,
Riding so fast...
Reaching high ground at Perranthnoe,
Safe and sound...
Looking down he realized
He was the last.

All of them died here,
Lost, eternally...

The sea engulfed the country,
Nothing left to see,
Apart from mountain peaks
Known now as the Isles of Scilly.

Hear, hear the bells ringing,
Hear them from beneath the sea,
Hear the souls calling,

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