The Wheel by Ansund – Live

Ansund’s folkish tribute to the children of Albion… live version.


This land is mine I swear, this country is my home
My kinsmen stand beside me, I know I’m not alone
In meadows flowers open, to greet life giving sun
With joy the children rush outdoors, and through the fields they run


My brothers they will never give up their own sacred ground
Our women they will never feel any less than proud


Whispers from the woodland, sweet scent of summer air
Birds soar over barley fields, and sing without a care
Hazy days, the busker plays, on cobbled village street
Children head down to the fair, not caring who they meet


Our children have strength in their souls, their flame keeps burning bright
Heroes’ blood flows through their veins, and teaches what is right


Green man takes his time to rest, as workers harvest corn
Shadows lengthen over land, and chillier the dawn
As Mother Nature’s wheel turns, we know she lives and dies
So we can reach and touch the stars, under our Northern skies


We revere Nature, we hail every dawn
There’s nothing that can frighten us, when we stand as one


Countryside all masked in white, the landlord brews his ale
Draw a chair close to the fire, and listen to a tale
A Winter Solstice with no dawn, an England with no light
All memories of past forgot, Just everlasting night


This tale of self destruction, comes from foreign tongue
And twisted minded traitors, in England are hung

The Wheel

So listen to the folk-song, and never ever kneel
And keep your soul in touch with Nature’s ever turning Wheel
We can live forever with our arms raised to the sun
With steely eyed determination, we’ve already won

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