WOODLANDS OF ENGLAND
(Hutchings, Whetstone)

There’s a song that they’re singing, the woodland of England
If you stand very still you might hear on the wind
They sing a lament for the loss of their Brethren
And the words that they’re singing are these

In the springtime, we’ll bring you the fragrance of blossom
In the summer present you with fruits of all kind
In the autumn we’ll shower you with goals and with armfuls
In the winter our kindling you will find

Some of us are old timers, we know many voices
Rosalind’s laughter, Giles Winterbourne’s call
But the woodpecker beats a tattoo as the day breaks
Now he beats a retreat for us all

There’s a song that they’re singing, the woodlands of England,
If you stand very still you might hear on the breeze
They sing a lament for the loss of their Sisters
And the words that they’re singing our these

When they finally cut down the woodlands of England
There'll be nowhere to hide, there'll be nowhere to seek
There'll Be nowhere to go out to hunt or for maying
There'll Be nowhere to climb up a tree

And soon they’rll be nowhere to whisper your seekrests
There'll be nowhere to heal all your anger and pain
There'll be nowhere for crying, nowhere for dying,
There'll be nowhere for silence to reign.

There’s a song that thery’re Singing, the woodlands of England
If you stand very still you might hear on the breeze
But the sound in the air’s growing fainter and fainter
It is vanishing now with the leaves

There’s a song that they’re singing...