Venta Icenorum
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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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