(Mike Scott)  man looks up on a yellow sky  and the rain turns to rust in his eye  rumours of his health are lies  old England is dying  his clothes are a dirty shade of blue  and his ancient shoes worn through  he steals from me and he lies to you  old England is dying  still he sings an empire song  still he keeps his navy strong  and he sticks his flag where it ill belongs  old England is dying  you're asking what makes me sigh now  what it is makes me shudder so well  I just freeze in the wind and I'm  numb from the pummelin of the snow  that falls from high in yellow skies  down on where the well loved flag of   England flies  where homes are warm and mothers sigh  where comedians laugh and babies cry  where criminals are televised politicians   fraternize  journalists are dignified and everyone is   civilized  and children stare with Heroin eyes  Old England!  evening has fallen  the swans are singing  the last of sunday's bells is ringing  the wind in the trees is sighing  and old England is dying