Let England Shake

The West's asleep. Let England shake, weighted down with silent dead. I fear our blood won't rise again. England's dancing days are done. Another day, Bobby, for you to come home & tell me indifference won. Smile, smile Bobby, with your lovely mouth.

Walker sees the mist rise Over no man's land He sees in front of him A smashed up waste ground There are no fields or trees No blades of grass Just unhurried ghosts are there Hanging in the wire Walker's in the wire Limbs point upwards There are no b

pj harvey - the last living rose goddamn' europeans! take me back to beautiful england and the grey, damp filthiness of ages and battered books and fog rolling down behind the mountains on the graveyards and dead sea-captains. let me walk through the

I live and die through England Through England It leaves a sadness Remedies never were within my reach I cannot go on as I am Withered vine reaching from the country That I love England You leave a taste A bitter one I have searched for your springs

Bitter branches spreading out. There's none more bitter than the wood. Into the wide world, it grows, twisting under soldier's feet, standing in line and the damp earth underneath. Holding up their rifles high, holding their young wives who wave good

How is our glorious country ploughed? Not by iron ploughs Our lands is ploughed by tanks and feet, Feet Marching Oh, America Oh, England How is our glorious country sown? Not with wheat and corn. How is our glorious land bestowed? What is the gloriou

The scent of Thyme carried on the wind, stings your face into remembering cruel nature has won again. On Battleship Hill's caved in trenches, a hateful feeling still lingers, even now, 80 years later. Cruel nature. Cruel, cruel nature. The land retur

We got up early, washed our faces, walked the fields and put up crosses. Passed through the damned mountains, went hellwards, and some of us returned, and some of us did not. In the fields and in the forests, under the moon and under the sun another

Death was everywhere, in the air and in the sounds coming off the mounds of Bolton's Ridge. Death's anchorage. When you rolled a smoke or told a joke, it was in the laughter and drinking water it approached the beach as strings of cutters, dropped in

I've seen and done things I want to forget; I've seen soldiers fall like lumps of meat, Blown and shot out beyond belief. Arms and legs were in the trees. I've seen and done things I want to forget; coming from an unearthly place, Longing to see a wo