We waited in our summer camps, we waited all summer long
To be paid for the bloody work we had done
I fought with Freeborn John, I fought with General Ireton
The best of men in the worst of times
I have honours to my name, I have served my God
And not that fool of a king
But when I close my eyes to dream I see pikes against the sky
I hear dying men and horses scream
And no one tells us what is happening
No one seems to know what is happening
Through those November rains, we were on the march again
To Putney with our elected men
And in the Church the leaders talked
And outside we stamped our feet against the cold
And dared to hope
News from home comes slow and it is never good
The harvest poor and too few to gather
We were sent to hang two men caught stealing food
By a frozen river
And no one ever tells us what is happening
No one seems to know what's happening
They say in London town the streets are alive with talk
The Assembly of Saints to be taken down
I say let them rot in Hell - it will be God's will
To see a land that is free
Everywhere there are prophets
Everywhere there are words
All rumours and rapture
But I just long to go home, turn my face into the sun
And now I know Jerusalem
And no one ever tells us what is happening
No one seems to know what is happening