Snelsmore Wood

I woke still half-dreaming I was falling out of the trees<br>and tumbling down into the sky<br>It`s cold, so cold sometime before dawn<br>searching for a light and reaching round for my clothes<br>That we believe, so must call, rise<br>The convoys roll into the coming daylight<br>Let it not be said that everything must die<br>without some mark being made of its passing<br><br>Chorus:<br>As if all the world should now hold its breath<br>These are the days that we`ll recall<br>when the masks are off the faces <br>and there`s something to fight for<br>All the lines drawn down in the Soul<br>You can let your anger burn crazy <br><br>There`s talking-drums echoed down towards the Kennet Canal<br>and wood-smoke sweet on the air<br>And the Yellow Jackets stand with the Thick Blue Line<br>backs to the woods in the fresh thin carpet of snow<br>Snelsmore Wood, The Chase, Enbourne Road<br>Reddings Copse, Tothill down through Andover Grove<br>Let it not be said that everything must die<br>without some mark being made of its passing <br><br>Chorus:<br>As if all the world should now hold its breath . . .