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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
June Tabor
June Tabor
Vocals
Andy Schofield
Andy Schofield
Alto Saxophone
DIXON, IAIN
DIXON, IAIN
Bass Clarinet
Dudley Phillips
Dudley Phillips
Double Bass
Huw Warren
Huw Warren
Piano
Jim Rattigan
Jim Rattigan
French Horn
Liam Kirkman
Liam Kirkman
Trombone
Mark Bassey
Mark Bassey
Trombone
Mark Emerson
Mark Emerson
Violin
Mark Lockheart
Mark Lockheart
Tenor Saxophone
Richard Bolton
Richard Bolton
Cello
Richard Fox
Richard Fox
Tuba
Richard Hes
Richard Hes
Trumpet
Roy Dodds
Roy Dodds
Percussion
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Maggie Holland
Maggie Holland
Composer
Huw Warren
Huw Warren
Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Dick Beetham
Dick Beetham
Mastering Engineer
Lloyd Gardiner
Lloyd Gardiner
Assistant Engineer
Tony Dixon
Tony Dixon
Editing Engineer
Trevor Hallesy
Trevor Hallesy
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

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 belong 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 wastelands of despair From the corner of my eye A brightness 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 Meeta grows the scent of roses Right beneath the big jet's path Bid a 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 in the 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 all 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 branch As 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 arse in his four-wheel drive England is not flag or Empire It is not money it is not blood It's limestone gorge and granite fell It's Wealden clay and Severn mud It's blackbird 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 yet dead A Mr. Harding sort of England Hanging in there by a thread Here's two cheers for the crazy Diggers Now their hour shall come around We can plant the seed they saved us Common wealth and common ground
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