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He's going under. |
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Beneath this stone in the fading light |
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Lies the lonely soul of a Joseph Wright. |
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Few hearts knew his kindness warm, |
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Few heads grew with a knowledge more |
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Informed. |
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He's going under. |
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With a gracious voice and a humour |
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Broad, |
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He pleased both peasant, squire and a |
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Lord, |
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A length his breath had a fortune steered |
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We called Joe's life the finest lot in |
|
Years. |
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He's going under, |
|
He's going under, |
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Poor Joe's life it was the finest lot in |
|
Years. |
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The hammer went down on his soul that |
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Night. |
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His breath was cold but he suffered no |
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Fight. |
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He was the last one sold on a priceless |
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Tear, |
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For poor Joe's life it was the finest lot in |
|
Years. |
|
He's going under, |
|
He's going under, |
|
Poor Joe's life it was the finest lot in |
|
Years |
