My best days behind me and old age ahead
And I thought that nostalgia in me was long dead
But thought once again it has proven me wrong
Nostalgia awakes to a very old song
A song from my young years that I used to hear
And though for nostalgia I've shed my last tear
The words in the old song transports me away
To far north of the place that I live in today
The old fields are wearing their flowers of the Spring
And the robin, wren, dunnock and chaffinch do sing
On bushes and trees in groves and on hedgerow
By their songs out of sight them I once used to know
In the memory of the migrant nostalgia doesn't die
To say otherwise would be telling a lie.
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