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Words by William Blake


And did those feet in ancient times
Walk upon England's mountains green
And was the the holy lamb of god
On England's pleasant pastures seen

And did the countenance divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills
And Was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark satanic mills


Bring me my bow of burning gold
Bring me my arrows of desire
Bring me my spear O clouds unfold
Bring me my chariot of fire

I will not cease from mental fight
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.