Caernarfon Town

In Caernarfon’s ancient heart, where stone meets sea,
The castle walls stand guard, a watch of history,
Grey turrets pierce the mist, a silent choir,
Guarding the tides that kiss the Menai Strait’s quiet fire.

Cobbled streets echo with the cadence of centuries,
Footsteps of princes, poets, and humble folk’s pleas,
Bilingual signs whisper Cymru’s proud refrain,
“Croeso i’r dinas” – welcome, come again.

Markets bustle beneath the slate‑grey sky,
Stalls of Welsh cakes, laverbread, and dragons’ pie,
The scent of peat and fresh‑baked bara brith,
Mingles with brine, a fragrant, loyal myth.

Evening falls, the castle lights aglow,
A golden halo on the waters’ slow flow,
Children’s laughter rings from the square’s old stone,
While harps and choirs sing a tone all their own.

Here, time is woven through each winding lane,
A tapestry of courage, joy, and rain,
Caernarfon town – steadfast, humble, grand –
A jewel set in Wales’ enduring hand.