England in the summer is a pretty sight.
Flowers in the meadow in the morning light.
You know, satisfy the song inside.
And the dream is making you care, everybody smiles.
And the dream is taking you there.
There’s a little bit of heaven on the village green.
And the Bunbury Eleven that you never see.
And they take all comers in the month of June.
On a Friday, Saturday, Bunbury afternoon.
On a Friday, Saturday, Bunbury afternoon.
On a Friday, Saturday, Bunbury afternoon.
They all say it couldn’t be real.
Shaking their head in wonder.
Making it long drive home.
And when the sun and the moment is gone.
Breaking that spell we’re under.
We played a part in the heart of a beautiful memory.
There’s a baby in a cradle and a wise old man.
Young lovers happy to be hand in hand.
Everybody finds their way.
They will learn the secret in time.
There’s a ring on her finger.
And a love that shows.
And the Bunbury Eleven say the rumor goes.
They’re married in the church in the month of June.
On a Friday, Saturday, Bunbury afternoon.
On a Friday, Saturday, Bunbury afternoon.
On a Friday, Saturday, Bunbury afternoon.
There’s a wind in the willows.
When the day is done.
People disappearing in the golden sun.
You know, everybody smiles.
There’s a little bit of heaven on…
