On the green fields of Warwickshire
In her Bluebells carpeted wood.
Along her banks by rivers flow,
As a child I have often stood.
Upon her narrow pavements,
Where Hopscotch had been chalked.
Beside the hedge fenced houses,
As a child I have often walked.
The horse road claimed by children,
The steam lorries hauling beer,
Along with rumbling steam roller,
As a child, I did often cheer.
The lakes I loved at Earlswood
Tranquil in summer's blazed heat.
Their banks were lined with rushes
As a child, I did often pleat.
Buttercups, Daises and Coltsfoot,
Wild flowers which painted the sod
Of the greenest of green in her pastures,
As a child, I have often trod.
Upon the hills of Licky,
With kite and ball of string.
Seen soring in the heavens,
As a child, my soul took wing.
Epilogue
What of you now my Warwickshire
Does greatness now lie in the past,
Is your glory vouched safe in your people,
Or only in your dead children's hearts?
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