A Christmas song for all our subscribers and viewers, just to say thankyou for your support, from The Kernow Krew. 

PULL UP A STOOL AND POUR A PINT! Merry Christmas from The Kernow Krew!

Forget the dry turkey and the sprouts, we're feasting on Stargazey Pie, saffron buns, and arguing about whether it's jam or cream first (we know the right answer, mind!).

To celebrate hitting the century mark, the Krew has put together a little "initiation" shanty. If you’re one of the 100, consider yourself warned: being part of the Kernow Krew involves a lot of heavy lifting, questionable cider, and more pasties than any one man should legally consume.

Meet Jago, a lad from Penzance who’s got more ambition than sense and a bank balance that wouldn’t buy you a medium pasty from the petrol station. After a few too many pints in the Admiral Benbow, he strikes a "legendary" deal with a fisherman who couldn't see a lighthouse if he was in it—buying a vessel for the princely sum of six pounds.

Meet Bill. He’s just an old salt trying to get in a quick pint in before last orders. Unfortunately for him, he lives at the lighthouse, and the Atlantic has decided to throw a bit of a tantrum. We’re talking rain like stair-rods, waves the size of a terrace house, and a certain multi-legged guest from the deep who doesn't know when to quit.

Gather 'round, me beauties! The Kernow Krew are back with a bit of a tear-jerker (but with enough stomp to keep your boots dry). This here is the true story of Henry Williams, a Truro draper from way back in 1629.

Now, Henry was a proper legend. When he popped his clogs, he didn't leave his gold to some fancy lord; he left it for ten poor widows so they’d have a roof, a bit of silver, and a meadow for a cow. Proper job, Henry! 

This track tells the dark legend of Jan Dando, the notorious parson of Saint Germans who swapped his faith for the hunt and the bottle. He was so consumed by his vices that he openly challenged the Devil himself to a drinking contest—a challenge that, of course, sealed his terrifying fate.

Happy Saint Piran’s Day to 'ee! Wasson, me beauties! Pull up a chair and lend an ear. As the flags of black and white are flying high from Tamar to Land’s End, we’ve got something special for 'ee. You can’t have a proper feast for St Piran without the true King of the County—the humble Cornish Pasty.

This little ditty is a short and sweet homage to the crimped crust we all know and love. Whether you’re a miner at heart or just fond of a bit of turnip and steak, this song is for you.

G’on, ‘ave a bit of cake! You can’t celebrate Saint Piran’s Day on an empty stomach, and nothing says "Proper Cornish" quite like the glorious, yellow glow of a Saffron Cake or bun.

"Saffron Gold" is a musical tribute to the richest treat in the West. We’re talking about that distinct, earthy spice that’s worth its weight in bullion, packed into a treat so yellow it’d make a daffodil look pale. Whether you like it sliced thick with a spread of salty butter or broken apart fresh out the oven, this song is a toast to the bakers and the tea-treats of our youth.

Proper Job, Krew! As the sun sets over the Atlantic, the Kernow Krew is turning our gaze across the Celtic Sea to our cousins in the Emerald Isle. It’s St. Patrick’s Day, and we’ve traded a bit of our Cornish granite for some Irish gold to bring you a tribute that’s been brewing in the hold for a while!

"Oh! Ireland" is our toast to the land of saints, scholars, and some of the finest fiddle-players to ever stomp a floorboard. From the engine houses of Cornwall to the hills of Kerry, we share the same salt, the same spirit, and the same love for a song that can rattle the rafters.

Alright, m’ansoms? The Kernow Krew are back, and this time we’ve gone proper old-school—we're talking 6th-century-level old-school.

Before there were tourists blocking the lanes and seagulls stealing your chips, there was a man named Arthur. Now, some folks up-country might try to claim him, but we know where the true High King comes from, don't we? This here’s a musical tale of the day he stopped the Saxons right in their tracks at Mount Badon.

In a bit of a turn-up for the books, we've swapped the shanty tunes, for a  folk number dedicated to the "Beep-and-Dig" brigade. Of which I am one, why I recall a warm summer evening, down Par beach, where I found two disposable BBQ's and four cans of Carling, two of them hadn't even been opened.  This isn't just a song for the hobbyist detectorists; it’s a story for anyone who’s ever wondered what’s sleeping beneath their boots.