Afar on when we took the field
Our spears like stands of pine
The battle weiry shield to shield
We vow to hold the line.
Far to the north we had put to flight
An army twice this size
But marching south 3 days and night
Till we heard the Norman cries
Breme fell at hastings
And under bitter skies
Pieced by the cruelest blackest reign
The heart of England lies,
The heart of England lies.
In hearth and home and family
We had welcome fires to burn
But they burnt their boats behind them
No hope of safe return.
Now beaten down and broken
We are driven from our homes
And the foreign tongue is spoken now within our Saxon walls.
Breme fell at hastings
And under bitter skies
Pieced by the cruelest blackest reign
The heart of England lies,
Oh the heart of England lies.
In forest taken by the crown
We hunt our game in fear,
For if we're found they'll ride us down
And trap like common deer.
The castle gates their lords hand down
The edict of the king.
Now in every shire and county town
In bondage now we sing.
Breme fell at hastings
And under bitter skies
Pieced by the cruelest blackest reign
The heart of England lies.
Breme fell at hastings
And under bitter skies
Pieced by the cruelest blackest reign
The heart of England lies,
Oh the heart of England lies.
(Saxon)
Writer(s): Stephen Andrew Knightley
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