(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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