Explore the woodland walk
The Tree People Trail
Tregenna's Tree People woodland trail is located at the woodland walk behind Tregenna's outdoor tennis courts. Don't forget to take your Wishing Tree wish card with you! Write a wish and post it in the special 'wish box' by our magical Wishing Tree.
Please be careful of vehicles when you cross the road.
An Introduction to the Tree People
A magical woodland
There is a story that we say is true
Where legends and giants planted great
Ash and Oak trees
And with a sprinkle of magic
The trees came alive and whispered on the breeze
Of a time gone by, of lost sailors; so tragic
Mermaids, monsters and missing relics
And great Kings and creatures with tales most epic.
Follow the path and you will see
That some of these trees are not all they seem
A few have names with stories to retell
And hold the key
To the legends and myths
Of what has been
On the Cornish coast of hopes and dreams.
The Mermaid of Zennor
There was once a woman who attended church
Every Sunday at the Senara Parish of Zennor
Nobody knew who she was, a mystery of a lady
With jewels, gold and grace -
Stunning features and an ethereal face
When the hymns began, the congregation would gasp
Her sweet dulcet tones were otherworldly
All eyes stayed on her, but when she’d leave
She’d suddenly vanish by the shore
Leaving all of the folk in awe
One man in particular was enchanted with her
His name Mathey Trewella, the Churchwardens son
One day he followed her, around the coast path
Hoping to win her heart, he was keen
And that was the very last time they were seen.
The folk all believed that she was a mermaid
A temptress that lured Mathey away
The sailors believe they can still hear them singing
Down near Pendour Cove
Guarding their home and treasure trove
The Patron Saint of Cornwall
St Piran was the holiest of men
He lived in Ireland and rose to favour
As priest counsellor to King Aengus of Munster
He stayed in good graces
Until he did not
And then got himself into a tricky spot
One fateful day, the king’s eye was turned
By a beautiful girl that was not his wife
Piran forbid it but the king did not care
He tied poor Piran
to a granite mill stone
And into the sea he was thrown!
Bewildered and shocked, the village folk saw
That the stone did not sink into the murky depths
But floated adrift a strong current
Untying his binds
Piran landed on a beach
And said, ‘What a great place to teach!’
He built himself a church in Perranporth
And the Cornish people flocked
To learn of Christianity and many untold tales
Piran listened to his God
and stayed by the coast
Realising he was luckier than most!
On one frosty night, Piran lit a great fire
And used a big black rock as a hearth stone
In the great heat, the rock started to melt
A stream of silver
Oozed from the ore
And metal gleamed on the shore.
The news travelled fast of a new metal to smelt
and the miraculous man who called it tin
It sold to merchants bringing so much wealth
That many ladies did fluster and faint
Later in years the holy man Piran
became our Patron Saint.
The Giant of St. Michael's Mount
I was planted in a bygone age by a boy called Jack.
His story is one that we must never forget.
He retold a tale
that would make most recoil
of a terrible giant named Cormoran.
He was a gruesome creature with warts and boils
That lived on St Michael’s Mount in Marazion
He terrorised the people
And bared his rotting teeth
Taking livestock and the butchers primed beef.
The locals had come to the end of their tether
Fed up of living in fear, a reward was granted
To any brave soul
Who could slay the beast
With the gift of a belt, a sword and a great feast
Jack a young farmers son was brave and true
With intelligence and strength he’d have the giant run through
By digging a pit
And covering with straw
The giant fell in and bumped his head sore
With Cormoran confused, angry and injured
Jack swiftly yielded his weapon and made the first move
A swing of his axe
A blow to the head
The great Cormoran giant lay dead!
Jack was now a hero and the villagers could relax
The giant now just a pile of dust, ash and rock
Climb high onto the mount
And you may see
Where Jack’s killer trap used to be.
The Eel Spirit
Humans have talked of a hob-goblin
A deep rooted fear within the sea
Of an eel spirit called a Bucca
That would catch the fisherman’s tea
During great storms and high tides
The bucca would retreat to a cave
Many Cornish folk would bear witness
Of a giant eel tail above the waves
The Bucca was not a bad spirit
As was usually written in folk-lore
When food was scarce in-land
He’d chase the fish to the shore
And in times of a-plenty
The Cornish folk would return the favour
They’d leave their catch on the tide
For the Bucca to feast and savour.
Find the Wishing Tree
In Tregenna's woodland walk
Find the tree, touch the bark
Close your eyes, let in the dark
Count to three in your head
And make a wish for a time ahead.
Believe it so and you will find
That a fairy made it a magical bind
For nothing in this charming wood
Should really be fully understood.