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