This might seem an overly negative statment, but along with The Band Played Waltzing Matilda and A Mon Like Thee, this song is the worst piece of heavy-handed mawkish sentimentality ever conceived and as such is the bane of my Folk Life. It flies up when you least expect it, and shits its noxious excrement everywhere. And this from a man who once made a special pilgrimage to see the real King of Rome, who now resides, stuffed of course, along with the Derby Ram (also stuffed though sadly depleted) and lots of lovely Joseph Wright paintings in the Derby gallery & museum. At least it did in 1999 when I was passing...