There is you and me in England's history,
Only knowing our worth by the size of our enemy.
Only seeing our reflection in another man's shield. 
Ah! Come on old England and raise that lion. 

The marching band plays the peace time rag, 
But, without the big bass drum our feet just drag. 
In this dance hall of living with the lights way down 
low, 

The street is dark and sleepy 
And we are dreaming one by one. 
I love this bloody country, Sir, 
But it leaves me feeling numb. 
(I think we are at war.) 

The enemy is at home tonight, 
Too familiar to catch my eye.
Yet threatening to invade everything that I hold dear, 
Ah! Come on old England and raise that lion.