Within your beauty and your curves there lies a blackened heart,
You spellbind with your charm and looks, yet heartache lies therein.
The flowing valleys, strongest rivers, mark out your domain,
But Shropshire hills all carry tales, so etched on aged and dying.
For beauty comes at such a price, once paid by those who lived,
Upon her bounteous splendour there and she would not forgive.
The quarries yielded precious ore, her furnaces a Nation.
But in her bowels good men perished her heart too, made of stone.
So cast an eye about her, aye, her wonderment and splendour,
For she was mistress harsh and vile to those that dare torment her.
You spellbind with your charm and looks, yet heartache lies therein.
The flowing valleys, strongest rivers, mark out your domain,
But Shropshire hills all carry tales, so etched on aged and dying.
For beauty comes at such a price, once paid by those who lived,
Upon her bounteous splendour there and she would not forgive.
The quarries yielded precious ore, her furnaces a Nation.
But in her bowels good men perished her heart too, made of stone.
So cast an eye about her, aye, her wonderment and splendour,
For she was mistress harsh and vile to those that dare torment her.
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