Well the sheaves have
all been brought
But the fields have washed away
and the palaces now stand
Where the coffins all were laid
and the times we see ahead
We must glaze with rosy hues
For we don't wish to admit
What it is we have to lose
<Interlude>
Millennia in coming
The modern age is here
It sanctifies the future
Yet renders us with fear
So many theories
So many prophecies
What we do need
is a change of ideas
When we are scared
We can hide in our reveries
But what we need
is a change of ideas
Change of ideas, change of ideas
What we need now
is a change of ideas
cked down
and they put you first in line
And so you finally ask yourself
just how big you are
and take your place in a wiser
world of bigger motor cars
<Intelrude>
So Where the hell was Biggles
when you needed him
last Saturday
And where were all the sportsmen
who always pulled you though
They're all resting down
in Cornwall
writing up their memoirs
for a paper-back edition
of the Boy Scout Manual
See there! A man born