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Let me take you on a journey
To a land where nothing’s new,
Where the people know the same things
That their grandparents all knew,
And we’ll see the shire horses
And the man holding the plough
As we wonder how these people lived
Not knowing what we know now.

We will look through frosted windows,
Hear a thousand vendors yell
As they walk along the cobbled
Streets each with their goods to sell
And the world will show a younger face
Without the mask of time
Like a rose in bloom, sweet
Scented, beautiful and in its prime.

And we’ll see the summer harvest
As along the road we go,
See the ripe apples of autumn
And the fields covered with snow,
For the world moves with the seasons
And the seasons move in turn
Till the springtime once again
Brings light and life with its return.

When we reach our journey’s end
We’ll enter through the old inn door
Where the fire will be burning
In the hearth, like oft before,
And we’ll call for pipes and matches
And we’ll call for cakes and ale
And we’ll talk of what we’ve seen
As we traversed o’er hill and dale.