| If There Is Hope, It Lies In The Proles |
|---|
| It was only a hopeless fancy |
| It passed like an April day |
| But a look and a word and the dreams they stirred |
| They’ve stolen my heart away |
| They say that time heals all things |
| They say you can always forget; |
| But the smiles and the tears across the years |
| They twist my hear-strings yet |
