Lyrics

The great guns of England, they listen mile on mile
To the boasts of a broken War-Lord

They lift their throats and smile

But the old woods are fallen

For a while

The old woods are fallen; yet will they come again
They will come back some springtime

With warm winds and with rain

For Nature guardeth her children

Never in vain

They will come back some season; it may be a hundred years
It is all one to Nature

With the centuries that are hers

She shall bring back her children

And dry all their tears

But the tears of a would-be War-Lord
Shall never cease to flow

He shall weep for the poisoned armies
Whenever the gas-winds blow

He shall always weep for his widows
And all Hell shall know.

The tears of a pitiless Kaiser
Shallow they'll flow and wide
Wide as the desolation

Made by his silly pride

When he slaughtered a little people
To stab France in her side