Long ago ran the sun on a folk who had a dream \
And the heart and the will and the power; \
They moved earth; they carved stone; moulded hill and channeled stream \
That we might stand on the wide plains of Wiltshire. \
Now men asked who they were, how they built and wonder why \
That they wrought standing stones of such size. \
What was done 'neath our shade? What was pray'ed 'neath our skies \
As we stood on the wyrd plains of Wiltshire. \
Oh what secrets we could tell if you'd listen and be still. \
Rid the stink and the noise from our skirts. \
But you haven't got the clue and perhaps you never will. \
Mute we stand on the cold plains of Wiltshire. \
Still we loom in the mists as the ages roll away \
And we say of our folk, "they are here!" \
That they built us and they died and you'll not be knowing why \
Save we stand on the bare plains of Wiltshire. \
