Journey by Stage-Coach2

[Verse]
O youngsters, let me tell you 'bout a memory dear,
An elderly man's tale, as the seasons appear.
On the outside of a stage-coach, breezin' through the fields,
Mid-spring or autumn, with the wind as a shield.

[Verse 2]
Posterity may shoot like bullets through a tube,
Winchester to Newcastle in a flash and a lube.
But the slow, old country way from end to end,
Now that's a journey, like an old, trusted friend.

[Chorus]
Oh, the memories we hold, in the tales we have told,
Of long, winding roads and skies turnin' gold.
From dawn till the gloamin', the stories are spread,
In the heart of this land, where old ways ain't dead.

[Verse 3]
The tube-journey's barren, like a hollow, empty cry,
No stories, no heartbeats, just the whoosh as it flies.
But on that stage-coach ride, where towns meet the earth,
Life's rich tapestry unfolds, beyond any modern worth.

[Verse 4]
Gatherin' tales of English life, both hard and grand,
Of labourin' hands and the touch of the land.
Of city streets and country scents blendin' fine,
To make a modern Odyssey, one tale at a time.

[Chorus]
Oh, the memories we hold, in the tales we have told,
Of long, winding roads and skies turnin' gold.
From dawn till the gloamin', the stories are spread,
In the heart of this land, where old ways ain't dead.