As I walked out on one midsummer's morning
A jubilee since the promise of the name
To taste and smell the riches of the morrow
To see times effect on Laurie Lee's Spain
There's still the heat and the scent of jasmine
Cicadas hammering down the heat of the sun
But no more mystery or innocence of purpose
Franco's costa is the victory won
There's still the graffiti of the fresco minded
Of fashion and pop and doodling fun
But no more calls from 'la passionara
A million Dolores in a land of one
No more calls from the donkey-peasant
Tanned to leather by the sun and pain
Only the pose of mobile messengers
Ephemeral and plastic like the coast of Spain
Bikini ladies as bare as the landscape
Shaped by olives and the soaring sun
Stirring dreams and dazzling the senses
Stymying the thoughts of Owell's man
So where are the hopes and promises of yesteryear
Where are the bones of Hemmingway's Spain
Not drifting on the tides and the sounds of the costa's
But walking on the morn of an Andean plain
Stand to the chords of L'Internationale
Raise your hopes above the flash mundane
Remember the aims of Sam Wild's army
On one midsummer's morning in Laurie Lee's Spain
As I walked out on a midsummer's morning
To taste and smell the past of Spain
There's only the words of remembered poets
On one midsummer's morning in Laurie Lee's Spain