When we have escaped

The all-encircling fear
And jeopardy of haunted years

I want to stand here
On this smiling shore
Hand-in-hand with you, my love;

Gaze out on the rugged islands
And listen to the rising tide
Wash gently on the sand;

Knowing that, at last,
It is all over
And just about to start.

 
 

Ah, Brittany. Those bastards in Westminster might strip us of our freedom of movement, but they’ll never take our dream. No pasarán. N.

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