(Mike Scott) man looks up on a yellow sky and the
rain turns to rust in his eye rumours of his
health are lies old England is dying his clothes
are a dirty shade of blue and his ancient shoes
worn through he steals from me and he lies to you
old England is dying still he sings an empire
song still he keeps his navy strong and he sticks
his flag where it ill belongs old England is
dying you're asking what makes me sigh now what
it is makes me shudder so well I just freeze in
the wind and I'm numb from the pummelin of the
snow that falls from high in yellow skies down on
where the well loved flag of England flies
where homes are warm and mothers sigh where
comedians laugh and babies cry where criminals
are televised politicians fraternize
journalists are dignified and everyone is
civilized and children stare with Heroin eyes Old
England! evening has fallen the swans are singing
the last of sunday's bells is ringing the wind in
the trees is sighing and old England is dying
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