The sun will shine
when clouds run dry,
but I won't be here anymore,
not on the English clover fields,
nor down upon the moor,
as on The Cliffs of Dover, I'll,
lay lost, like those who died before.

The dawn will break,
and tears shall fly,
and wind shall swiftly take them all,
into the sea where waves collide,
hard against the white cliff wall.

Then looking back upon the sky,

I'll close my eyes and say goodbye

To England, and to all.