Benny Junior
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England (6 o'clock, Sunday Night)

See the greens and khakis of the battlefields of England
The reds and blues of the cup finals and fetes
Travel the breadth from the rock pools to the high streets
The rolling hills to the industrial estates

Like the water falling on the valleys and the foothills
Running down the windows and the lanes
You know for sure that there's some kind of lifeblood
Flowing through the estuaries and veins

It's beautiful to me, it's ours and it's free
It's beautiful, it's ours

Despite the wreckage and all the faded glory
There's something underneath that won't get lost
Home to all the peoples washed here on the freak tides of history
Richer for the colour in the cloth

It's beautiful to me, it's ours and it's free
It's beautiful, it's ours

Benny Junior