Day of Days

My green field of England,
Red with the blood of freedom,
Green with youthful ignorance;
Were we not a great nation once?
Are we not a great nation still?

From forest to field and rolling hill,
carved from the sweat of the generationless.
My heart is your's , my burnt field,
Tears from the ploughs of the lost,
who fought and died for their truths;

We honour you , my field
this Day of days,
We serve thee , oh field
Hold us in your mourning mist
Clear our tear filled eyes
and wipe the dust from our dreams;

We are forever English in vein and grain
Proud field,I swear to thee the time is nigh...
I stand upon your cracking crust
and bow to the men who fall to protect us;

Men , whose families know,
what it means to be tied to this freedom.
Spirited men
Buried beneath ,
yet drifting by in cloudy peace
fathers and sons of a nation,
forever young ,
forever free
Forever missed
men and boys
like you or me..

So walk across our English field
and hold your hands to pray
for thanks are due to all of those
who fight for us this day.

x