Nursery Cryme

Sunday at six when they close both the gates a widowed pair, still sitting there, Wonder if they're late for church and its cold so they fasten their coats and cross the grass, they're always last. Passing by the padlocked swings, the roundabout stil

Play me Old King Cole That I may join with you, All your hearts now seem so far from me It hardly seems to matter now. And the nurse will tell you lies Of a kingdom beyond the skies. But I am lost within this half-world, It hardly seems to matter now