(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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