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Now it's been 25 years or more |
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I've roamed this land from shore to shore |
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From Tyne to Tamar, Severn to Thames |
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From moor to vale, from peak to fen |
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Played in cafes, pubs and bars |
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I've stood in the street with my old guitar |
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But I'd be richer than all the rest |
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If I had a pound for each request |
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For 'Duelling Banjos', 'American Pie' |
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It's enough to make you cry |
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'Rule Britannia', or 'Swing low...' |
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Are they the only songs we English know? |
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Seed, bark, flower, fruit |
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They're never gonna grow without their roots |
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Branch, stem, shoot |
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They need roots |
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After the speeches, when the cake's been cut |
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The disco's over and the bar is shut |
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At christening, birthday, wedding or wake |
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What can we sing 'til the morning breaks |
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When the Indians, Asians, Afro-Celts |
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It's in their blood, below their belt |
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They're playing and dancing all night long |
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So what have they got right that we've got wrong? |
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Seed, bark, flower, fruit |
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They're never gonna grow without their roots |
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Branch, stem, shoot |
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They need roots and |
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Haul away boys, let them go |
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Out in the wind and the rain and snow |
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We've lost more than we'll ever know |
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'Round the rocky shores of England |
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We need roots |
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And a minister said his vision of hell |
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Is three folk singers in a pub near Wells |
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Well, I've got a vision of urban sprawl |
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There's pubs where no-one ever sings at all |
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And everyone stares at a great big screen |
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Overpaid soccer stars, prancing teens |
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Australian soap, American rap |
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Estuary English, baseball caps |
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And we learn to be ashamed before we walk |
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Of the way we look, and the way we talk |
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Without our stories or our songs |
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How will we know where we come from? |
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I've lost St. George in the Union Jack |
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It's my flag too and I want it back |
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Seed, bark, flower, fruit |
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Never gonna grow without their roots |
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Branch, stem, shoot |
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We need roots |
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Haul away boys, let them go |
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Out in the wind and the rain and snow |
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We've lost more than we'll ever know |
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'Round the rocky shores of England |
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We need roots... |
