On an island in the west country,..
In the Queen's land, where Black-beard,..
Once played on, as a young child..
And called his home, among the contours...
Chained men and tobaccos..
Once brought fortune lust..
Bridges were built, and train tracks laid..
By the man Brunel, who wore as long a hat..
Ships and cathedrals, hippodrome and colston halls ..
Treasured marks on walls to display..
And stone-henge laid a stone throw away..
Roman baths, in nearby Bath..
And underground passage, of tunnels laid..
For walks, wine cellars and rivers paths, ..
Horse mountain and Welsh borders..
Sat not far away on looks
If adventure should take you a day trip
St. Pauls carnival, harbour festivals..
Balloon festival and beer festivals
Kite festivals down at ashton gates..
Oh the biggest of its kind, in festival stands ..
Not in too far, a distance away to reach..
But for one thing, the one thing
That makes Brizz so special..
Would be sanctuary, it provides for lost souls..
This here laid land, a place like home..
Gulliver did be so proud, to call his home..
Away from home, as I do, away from home..