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Waves of memories go through your head

All the senses keen and sharp

Running like a river through the futute and the past

Standing on the coal and iron mountains

Surrounded by a white and downy mist

Walking through Blaenavon's streets

Historic miners ground

The memories go back to the place where I was born

Standing in a cold and humid room

See my mother trying to light the stove

Listen to the oldman's stories

On the ground of St.Peters church

He says the smell and taste, it is in your head

Hidden in a part of your brain

Feels like the memories of your past

At Blaenavon in the mist

At the mine or in the streets

At the moor of my home town