The vans they come in convoys now, stealing through the dawn   Silent in the countryside in the hills up to the north   There's road blocks on the Meden bridge   There's click, click clicking on the phone   They're sealing off our villages, sealing off our homes    This ain't some tin-pot story arriving from a distant shore   But our own sweet, green and pleasant land in 1984      Her father crossed the battle lines in the first months of the war   She frowns down at the soup kitchen - she doesn't have a father anymore   It's cold in the early mornings, standing with your mates   Staring at the thick blue line armed and ready at the gates    This ain't some tin-pot story arriving from a distant shore   But our own sweet, green and pleasant land in 1984      The servants of our great nation   Have lied in the name of us all   While the officers of peace and order   Are busy breaking every law   There's hundreds on trumped-up charges   Hundreds on the streets   The future of our villages   Sown with bitter seeds    And hatred starts to rumble where there was no hate before   In our own sweet green and pleasant land in 1984    Nobody wanted to see the blood   As the blue lights flash through in the night   But all the words fell on deaf ears   And now the blind frustration bites    Two nations under one crown divided more and more   In our own sweet green and pleasant land in 1984