Across the great, grey Norfolk skies,

Heading back in perfect formation

They fly on a thousand silent wings

Onwards towards their destination.

High above the Norwich spires

The golds and reds of woodland fires

Forgotten villages,

Quiet towns,

The patchwork fields of greys and browns,

And silent airfields... waiting

On a thousand silver wings

Onward, along by the coast

Where the sand is flecked with foam

And on, on to the marshes

Where shy grasses dance and sing..

The geese are back, the geese are back!

They're here,

They've come,

They're home!