The Green Hills of England

From the center of the forest we watched the strangers come

There must have been ten thousand or more

Their armor glinting coldly in the early moring sun

As they marched across the valley floor

They slaughtered us like cattle they dragged us off in chains

They burned our village to the ground

Now we are a hunted people pursued by castle and church steeple

Always driven underground

But the rain still falls on the green hills of England

And the sun beats down on our California home

And the wind blows free across all your borders

Why must we be always on the run?

Through all these years of history through all these bloody centuries

We dared not even dream of being free

We worked in farms and factories we did our best to live in peace

But they'd never let us be

Now our tribe grows strong again we hold our heads up high again

We know each other when we meet

From the mountain to the sea and all the land that lies between

On country fields and city streets

And the rain...