On Wenlock Edge the Wood's in Trouble
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Lyrics adapted from "On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble" by A. E. Housman

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.

'Twas before my time, the Roman
At yonder heaving hill would stare.
Blood that warms an English yeoman,
The thoughts that hurt him, they were there.

Holt and... old wind... Roman... he would stare.
Old wind... Roman... the thoughts that hurt him
They were there.

Now 'tis I
Now 'tis I

The gale, it plies the saplings double,
It blows so hard, 'twill soon be gone:
To-day the Roman and his trouble
Are ashes under Uricon.

Holt and... old wind... Roman... he would stare.
Old wind... Roman... the thoughts that hurt him
They were there.