The 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