Recalling the metalled track from Higher Brownstone to the old WW2 gun emplacements 

opposite the Mewstone rock at the estuary of the beautiful River Dart in South Devon.

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Near Kingswear Town, there stands a tree

That stands alone and waits for me

To take the track back to the sea,

The way down by The Mewstone.

 

Past the beacon in the corn,

Built for every seaman born,

To the works of war forlorn

At bay down by The Mewstone.

 

Above the rocks, beneath the pine,

Look-outs lost in leaf and vine,

Still staring out in dark design,

Decay down by The Mewstone.

 

When life and living make no sense

And all I care for gives offence,

I do not fret but get me hence

To stray down by The Mewstone.

 

And when I walk that winding lane

Towards the sea beyond the grain,

I find my peace of mind again -

And pray down by The Mewstone.

 

The fields my church, the wind my choir,

The sky above a mighty spire

That soars and draws my spirit higher

Each day down by The Mewstone.