In the good garden of England 
the sky is always blue, except
as rain begins to thunder down
and lightening must see you through
the good old garden of England 
byways from orchard to meadow lead
each pretty one to their tryst, please- 
no fence rear up where love should grow

And the heart of the garden of England
quite unable to say just how it feels
the mind of the old garden of England
all untried at re-inventing the wheel

In the good garden of England 
many rivers heard chiming, except
as argument becomes louder 
each poor word seems to be drowning
in the good old garden of England 
where the sky indeed is always blue
and leafy byways lead on easy
what is it that we must yet do?

For the heart of the garden of England
still is unable to say how it feels
the mind of the ol' garden of England
all untried at re-inventing the wheel