Page Four of Owain Glyndwr

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It was a disaster of the greatest magnitude when Harlech fell, for Owain's wife, two daughters and three granddaughters were seized and carried off to London. His great ally Mortimer died in the siege, during which English ships pounded the castle with cannon ball from the sea. So the end was nigh for in 1409 Owain had no solid foothold left in the region.

In closing Dear Visitor, that day in September 2000 in the ancient capital of Machynlleth and despite the intervening 600 years, I had a tremendous feeling of satisfaction flying alongside Ole Goldie once again. May there be many more days when together the Lion of Glyndwr and the Red Dragon of Wales can flutter proudly in the wind.

O Ye Greatest Son Of Wales
Where are Thou

O ye greatest Son of Wales where doth liest thou
Be your grave beneath some great oak's mighty bough
I and the battlefield ghosts of those days long gone past
Have this land searched in the hope of finding you at last

Be it perhaps that you even lie in some forgotten English field
As the passing of time has dimmed my memory your grave to yield
For we fled that fatal day in 1409 from mighty Harlech with such shock
When English Man O War with cannon ball began to pound that rock

I like to think that perhaps you wait for the time to come at last
When Sycarth mansion will rise from the ash and dust of time past
So that once again you will lead the warriors of this land of mine
To rescind those acts of history that have befell this country o'er time

So it was in Machynlleth, that ancient capital of Wales
That Welsh people from many Nations, mountains and vales
Gathered in September 2000, 600 years to the very day
Almost very near the spot where you did kneel and pray

We had assembled there to erect a monument to view
Not one that had been hewn from some great tree of Yew
But one of granite rock, tall, straight and O so very true
For it was to honour the greatest Welshman of all time, You!

Many gathered were heirs of those who had fought with you in this land
O my Owain you would have been so proud, for they looked so grand
Their eyes once again searched the skyline for sign of your battle flag
But when none appeared, they bent their heads and eyes went so sad

Ole Golden Lion was there with me too, borne high and by hand
Proud as the day it was carried forth with you across the land
Now in deference to all, the time has come for you to be found
For we have to be sure that you are buried in hallowed ground

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