Cornish cream

My state it lies in the deep South west
A penninsular the toe and foot in the atlantics swell  
White dust that clay upon the potters wheel  
Fine paper without its body has no feel  
The schools of art at their easel
Those scenes spectacular in coast and field    
Of towns and cities where fortunes out of TIN were made  
And the imprint that they left to antiquate  
Mines worked out and left to flood
A legacy of industry that non can ever grub 
 On top the engine house, its chimney  soars  
Proudly stands aloft not the tip of coals black spoil  
On the cliff above the beach, inhabited now    
A film crew "Ploldark" the romantic lead  
As rugged as the scenery, wild as the beast of Bodmin moor  
The surf as it breaks on the north coast shores  
World champions brown and tanned on their long boards  
The first steam engine that ran on wheels    
At Cambornes great fare its replica appears  
I sit and eat my lunch  
Like the miners sat in the dark and stench  
A pasty filled like my county    
With tasty things all meant to please  
Written by slipalong
Published | Edited 25th Jul 2019
Author's Note
For the competition # Unique places
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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