| The old man’s come to see
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| The way the land lies over
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| Come to see the way the clouds roll
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| He wants to know if cowslips still grow
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| On the hill where he kissed his girl
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| And if the sky turns just the same
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| When the wind blows from the west
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| Above the old town in the distance
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| And the village in the field
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| He wants to see the graveyard by the church
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| And watch the clock and see the boys
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| Throwing stones at the skylarks
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| Just the way they were
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| The old man’s come to see
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| The way the trees fall on the land with the sunset
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| And smell the grass as it blows through the fields
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| The old man’s come to see
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| The way the land lies beneath the sky
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| He wants to know if the rain that falls is just the same
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| And the way the clouds stretch open
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| And hang there like a veil
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| And the ocean to the north
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| It sings the same song and turns
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| From blue-grey into green
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| The old man’s come to see
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| The way the land lies beneath the sky
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| To watch the shadows of the clouds racing by |