Champagne and cup cakes.
A Cornish beach with rippling swell.
Love be cultured as a precious pearl.
Where love be found with special girl.

Projects full of rich intention.
Health.
Wealth.
Happiness.

The air is filled with childhood squeals.
Summer flicks on the crown of her hair.

Children ride horses with the sea on their heels.

History steeped at the top of the hill.
Empty mines.
Cleared of tin.
In the county, where Poldark first made his mark.
Country delight?
Nah.
A county in England.
Better not tell the Cornish man.
Kernow man's birthright.
The sovereign state of Cornwall.
Not all of the Cornish men have seven wives.
Nor do they live in the land of St Ives.
One wife is enough for most.

Your spirit in Southampton, now merely a ghost.
(c) Livvi
Good luck.

I'd a pluck a fair rose for my love
I'd a pluck a red rose blowin'
Love's in my heart, i'm tryin' so to prove
What your heart's knowin'

I'd a pluck a finger on a thorn
I'd a pluck a finger bleedin'
Red is my heart, wounded and forlorn
And your heart needin'

I'd a hold a finger to my tongue
I'd a hold a finger waitin'
My heart is sore, until it joins in song
With your heart matin'

Poldark

What it is about
A three-cornered hat all grim
That makes women swoon?


*(I don’t think it’s the hat, man)