Roots

Rob kick starts his imaginary motorbike
Originally uploaded by Sid Aurther.

Now its been twenty-five years or more
I've roamed this land from shore to shore
From Tyne to Tamar, Severn to Thames
From Moor to Vale, from Peak to Fen.
Played in cafes and pubs and bars
Ive stood in the street with my old guitar
But I'd be richer than all the rest
If I had a pound for each request
For Duelling Banjos, American Pie,
Its enough to make you cry
Rule Britannia, or Swing low,
Are they the only songs the English know?

Seed, bud, flower, fruit
They're never gonna grow without their roots
Branch, stem, shoots - they need roots.

After the speeches when the cakes been cut
The discos over and the bar is shut
At christening, birthday, wedding or wake
What can we sing until the morning breaks?
When the Indian, Asians, Afro, Celts,
Its in their blood, and below the belt.
They're playing and dancing all night long
So what have they got right, that weve got wrong?

Seed, bud, flower, fruit
Never gonna grow without their roots
Branch, stem, shoots -we need roots

Haul away boys let them go
Out in the wind and the rain and snow
Weve lost more than well ever know
Round the rocky shores of England

And a minister said his vision of hell
Is three folk singers in a pub near Wells.
Well Ive got a vision of urban sprawl
Its pubs where no one ever sings at all.
And everyone stares at a great big screen
Over-paid soccer stars, prancing teens,
Australian soap, American rap,
Estuary English, baseball caps,
And we learn to be ashamed before we walk
Of the way we look, and the way we talk.
Without our stories, or our songs,
How will we know where weve come from?
I've lost St George in the Union Jack
Its my flag too, and I want it back

Seed, bud, flower, fruit
Never gonna grow without their roots
Branch, stem, shoots - we need roots

Haul away boys let them go
Out in the wind and the rain and snow
Weve lost more than well ever know
Round the rocky shores of England