| Well, I’ve been to a minor place | 
| And I can say I like its face | 
| If I am gone and with no trace | 
| I will be in my minor place | 
| Well, I put the shoes in line | 
| Separate the women mine | 
| As we do what we do fine | 
| So victorious, so benign | 
| Well, I’ve been to a minor place | 
| And I can say I like its face | 
| If I am gone and with no trace | 
| I will be in my minor place | 
| Only take the weather warm | 
| And the job that does me harm | 
| Since the scars of last year’s storm | 
| Rest like maggots on my arm | 
| Well, I’ve been to a minor place | 
| And I can say I like its face | 
| If I am gone and with no trace | 
| I will be in my minor place | 
| Thank you man if for the thought | 
| That all my loving can be bought | 
| Was wisely in your gullet caught | 
| Before my loyalty you sought | 
| Well, I’ve been to a minor place | 
| And I can say I like its face | 
| If I am gone and with no trace | 
| I will be in my minor place | 
| O it’s not a desert nor a web | 
| Nor a tomb where I lay dead | 
| Minor in a sound alone | 
| Yes a clear commanding tone | 
| Singing from my little point | 
| And aching in my every joint | 
| I thank the world it will anoint me | 
| If I show it how I hold it |