It’s early spring at Cressage. The days are warm and bright.
There’s blossom on the blackthorn. Wild flowers bloom left and right.
A white bridge stands majestic, astride the Severn’s flow.
Old pillboxes keep their vigil, still waiting for the foe.
The trees and the grass are greening. There’s a fresh scent in the air
And hark, the village children, in the school yard over there.
God bless this rural England and keep it safe from harm.
Preserve its ancient beauty and maintain its rustic charm;
For something deep within me stirs to see it all this way
And I would give my life for England before an enemy held sway.
