When the evening clouds shroud the western hills,
And a sheet of rain makes its mist-path up the vale,
The silver line of the Severn always lights your way:
A lantern of water making its way to the sea.
When the evening clouds shroud the western hills,
And a sheet of rain makes its mist-path up the vale,
The silver line of the Severn always lights your way:
A lantern of water making its way to the sea.