Mud upon his shoes, your Father walks across the fields Down into the valley where they wait A Solitary Bell, the flowers and crowds that line this quiet English street The way your Mother brushed aside her tears and raised her eyes up to the sky The day they brought you home
A rifle cracks the sky at graveside And I remember running through these streets And I remember when we ruled the World And every oath we swore in blood, the day they brought you home
When will we know such friends again? Each passing year, each sad parade The shadows lengthen in the villages we knew One took the Sword, one took the soil Sons of the Sword, Sons of the SoilTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
