作词 : Rudyard Kipling
作曲 : Chris Lowe/Rudyard Kipling/Neil Tennant
  They shut the road through the woods
 Seventy years ago. 
 Weather and rain have undone it again, 
 And now you would never know 
 There was once a road through the woods 
 Before they planted the trees. 
 It is underneath the coppice and heath, 
 And the thin anemones.
 Only the keeper sees 
 That, where the ring-dove broods,
 And the badgers roll at ease, 
 There was once a road through the woods.
 
 Yet, if you enter the woods
 Of a summer evening late, 

 When the night-air cools
 on the trout-ringed pools
 Where the otter whistles his mate, 

 (They fear not men in the woods, 

 Because they see so few.) 

 You will hear the beat of a horse's feet, 

 And the swish of a skirt in the dew, 

 Steadily cantering through
 The misty solitudes, 

 As though they perfectly knew
 The old lost road through the woods.

 But there is no road through the woods