Notes From a Small Island - Redux 2 Version

A train goes past the station
 There are leaves upon the line
 Commuters stifle sniffles
 With a plastic cup of wine
 Waiting at a level crossing
 Stands a silver four-wheel-drive
 Time to pick the kids up
 Who knows when they will arrive
 Down the lane a little cyclist
 With a little flashing light
 Slips past a little church
 Its little windows shining bright
 Around the back a graveyard
 With some ageing wooden benches
 Empty beer cans litter graves
 Of those who died in trenches
 We're all living on this island
 We're all getting by
 Empire lost, we count the cost but
 Stiff upper lips don't cry
 On the fields of Battle
 There's a kid flying a kite
 His parents pecking fingerfoods
 Discussing who is right
 He says they should move
 But she wants to stay put
 He's increasingly insistent
 But she's putting down her foot
 Across the road a pub is open
 Parasols out front
 People drinking continental lager
 Talking with a grunt
 The cat jumps up on to the bar
 A glass falls with a smash
 "That's coming from your wages"
 Says the landlord waving cash
 We're all living on this island
 We're all getting by
 Empire lost, we count the cost but
 Stiff upper lips don't cry
 Streets away, a tiny woman
 Pulls a basket on its wheel
 Inside the Yorkshire terrier
 Looks forward to its meals
 She stops into a corner shop
 Picks up a box of tea
 She strolls back home and watches
 Something on the BBC
 Next door a baby's crying
 'Cause she wants to have her feed
 Her mum lets out a big sigh
 'Cause she's settled down to read
 Up and down the country
 On the doorsteps and the drives
 All the British people
 Going about their British lives
 We're all living on this island
 We're all getting by
 Empire lost, we count the cost but
 Stiff upper lips don't cry
 We're all living on this island
 We're all getting by
 Empire lost, we count the cost but
 Stiff upper lips don't cry