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Venta Icenorum


Under this field, the old street patterns lie
But all the legions have now marched away
And cawing rooks above the treetops fly

Beneath an ever changing Norfolk sky
And only crumbling walls remain today
Under this field, the old street patterns lie

And the London train passes by on high
And only grazing sheep are here to stay
And the tiny Tas runs quietly by

No vendors in the busy market cry
No worshippers to Mars and Venus pray
Under this field, the old street patterns lie

No boats upon the river now untie
No actors in the ampitheatre play
And the tiny Tas runs quietly by

For in the end, all empires fall and die
And time moves forwards without delay
Under this field, the old street patterns lie
And the tiny Tas runs quietly by.






















 
 

 

 

 

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