How it seems like a dim distant dream now

When we were kids in those Wiltshire lanes,

You with your horses and boyfriends,

Me with my cycling and trains.

 

There's Box - and there's Bill Peters' stable...

And sometimes I'm sure to believe

I hear Mum call "Tea's on the table",

And the brother is due home on leave.

 

Now the years have passed in their own ways

And we've travelled the highways of life;

You've added so much to those innocent days -

Mother...grandmother...Dave's wife.

 

When you sit there and dream in the lamplight,

When your world's full of those aches and pains,

Lose your thoughts in your days in those damp-bright

Long ago Wiltshire lanes.

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