Lyrics Maggie Holland – A Place Called England

A Place Called England Lyrics – Maggie Holland

Singer: Maggie Holland
Title: A Place Called England

I rode out on a bright May morning, like a hero in a song
Looking for a place called England, trying to find where I come from
Couldn’t find the old flood meadow, or the house that I once knew
No trace of the little river, or the garden where I grew

I saw town and I saw country, motorway and sink estate
Rich man in his rolling acres, poor man still outside the gate
Retail park and burger kingdom, prairie field and factory farm
Run by men who think that England’s only a place to park their car

But as the train pulled from the station, through the wasteland of despair
From thе corner of my eye, a brightnеss filled the filthy air
Someone’s grown a patch of sunflowers, though the soil is sooty black
Marigolds and a few tomatoes, right beside the railway track

Down behind the terraced houses, in between the concrete towers
Compost heaps and scarlet runners, secret gardens full of flowers
Meet a grove of scented roses, right beneath the big jet’s path
“Bitter fortune for her garden”, Eileen turns away and laughs

So rise up George, and wake up Arthur, time to rouse out from your sleep
Deck the horse with sea-green ribbons, drag the old sword from the deep
Hold the line for Dave and Daniel as they tunnel through the clay
While the oak in its glory soaks up sun for one more day

And come all you at home with freedom, whatever the land that gave you birth
There’s room for you, both root and branches, long as you love the English earth
Room for vole and room for orchid, room for all to grow and thrive
Just less room for the fat landowner, on his #ss in his four-wheel drive

For England is not flag or empire, it is not money, it is not blood
It’s limestone gorge and granite fell, it’s Wealden in clay and Severn mud
Blackbirds singing from the May-tree, lark ascending through the scales
Robin watching from your spade and English earth beneath your nails

So here’s two cheers for a place called England, badly used but not quite dead
A Mr. Harding sort of England, hanging in there by a thread
Here’s two cheers for the crazy diggers, now the row shall come around
We shall plant the seed they saved us, commonwealth and common ground
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Lyrics Maggie Holland – A Place Called England

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