when the golden sun goes down
down here in stansfordlong
and the cornflakes over the fields
are singing the same sad song
and the old country road
does slowly disapier
behind the big black mountain
where the river flows till here
when the world is getting tired
and fall deeply asleep
i go back, back to my old cow
and hi, hay, hi, hay, heep
when the golden sun get's up
up here in stansfordlong
and the popcorns over the fields
are mumming the same sad song
and the noise of the brand new highway
from behind the same black mountain
where the air moves like brise
when the world is getting tired
and fall deeply asleep
i go back, back to my old cow
and hi, hay, hi, hay, heep
down here in stansfordlong
and the cornflakes over the fields
are singing the same sad song
and the old country road
does slowly disapier
behind the big black mountain
where the river flows till here
when the world is getting tired
and fall deeply asleep
i go back, back to my old cow
and hi, hay, hi, hay, heep
when the golden sun get's up
up here in stansfordlong
and the popcorns over the fields
are mumming the same sad song
and the noise of the brand new highway
from behind the same black mountain
where the air moves like brise
when the world is getting tired
and fall deeply asleep
i go back, back to my old cow
and hi, hay, hi, hay, heep