| William Francis, noble lord
|
| His fortune built on sweat and sword
|
| Built an empire tall as a hill
|
| But he don’t have fun and he never will
|
| My, my
|
| Sees the world so far below
|
| And though he tries, he’ll never know
|
| Friends to greet the breaking of day
|
| And love to pass the night away
|
| My, my
|
| William Francis high and dry
|
| With his paradise denied
|
| My, my
|
| William Francis, lost, alone
|
| A thousand ifs and a heart of stone
|
| He measures his life in gain and cost
|
| But he’ll never add up the world he lost
|
| My, my
|
| William Francis high and dry
|
| With his paradise denied
|
| My, my
|
| William Francis, master of all
|
| But none to catch him when he falls
|
| He works us long and he works us hard
|
| But we’ll dance all the way to the knacker’s yard
|
| My, my
|
| William Francis high and dry
|
| With his paradise denied
|
| My, my |