Mike Scott)





man looks up on a yellow sky

and the rain turns to rust in his eye

rumours of his health are lies

old England is dying





his clothes are a dirty shade of blue

and his ancient shoes worn through

he steals from me and he lies to you

old England is dying





still he sings an empire song

still he keeps his navy strong

and he sticks his flag where it ill belongs

old England is dying





you're asking what makes me sigh now

what it is makes me shudder so well

I just freeze in the wind and I'm

numb from the pummelin of the snow

that falls from high in yellow skies

down on where the well loved flag of

England flies

where homes are warm and mothers sigh

where comedians laugh and babies cry

where criminals are televised politicians

fraternize

journalists are dignified and everyone is

civilized

and children stare with Heroin eyes

Old England!





evening has fallen

the swans are singing

the last of sunday's bells is ringing

the wind in the trees is sighing

and old England is dying