Wally Whyton Follow

I speak on behalf of the next generation,
my sons, my daughters, and theirs to come.
What will you leave for their recreation?
An oil slick, a pylon, an industrial slum?

CHORUS: Leave them a flower, aome grass and a hedgerow,
a hill and a valley, a view to the sea.
For these things are not yours to destroy as you want to,
A gift given once for eternity.

You plunder and pillage, you tear and you tunnel,
trees lay tumbled, roots finger the sky.
Building a land for machines and computers,
in the name of progress, the farms have to die.

CHORUS

Fish in the ocean polluted and poisened,
the sand on the beaches stinking and black.
And you with your tankers, your banks and investments say: "Never worry, the birds will come back!"

CHORUS

When the last flower has dropped its last petal,
when the last concrete is finally laid.
Them moon will shine cold on a nightmarish landscape,
your gift to your children, this world that you made.

FINAL CHORUS: Leave them a flower, aome grass and a hedgerow,
a hill and a valley, a view to the sea.
For these things are not yours to destroy as you want to,
A gift given once for eternity.
For eternity.
For eternity.
For eternity.