Merry England

Waiting on a station platform for a change of train
Seems whenever I’m in Preston that it always rains
Just today from moving on to play another town
I’ve no way of knowing where tonight I lay me down
Merry England, though your heart is warm, your hands are cold
And I’d like to think I’m growing up, as well as growing old
But it’s been weeks since I’ve been smiled on by a face I knew
And I’ve started thinking every pretty woman looks like you
Blackpool in December found me wandering forlorn
Remembering what a child felt when the carnival had gone
Can’t gain on the roundabouts or lose upon the swing
Too late for the summer days, too early for the spring
Merry England, though your heart is warm, your hands are cold
And I’d like to think I’m growing up, as well as growing old
But it’s been weeks since I’ve been smiled on by a face I knew
And I’ve started thinking every pretty woman looks like you
Looks like you traveled round beside me in a song
Having you to come back home to helped me get along
But it’s been weeks since I been smiled on by a face I knew
And I’ve started thinking every pretty woman looks like you