Final Lot

He's going under.
Beneath this stone in the fading light
Lies the lonely soul of a Joseph Wright.
Few hearts knew his kindness warm,
Few heads grew with a knowledge more informed.

He's going under.
With a gracious voice and a humour broad,
He pleased both peasant, squire and a lord,
A length his breath had a fortune steered
We called Joe`s life the finest lot in years.

He's going under,
He's going under,
Poor Joe's life it was the finest lot in years.

The hammer went down on his soul that night.
His breath was cold but he suffered no fight.
He was the last one sold on a priceless tear,
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