His father came to him with news of their demise
The peasants turn from work to light the burning fires
That shone like beacons with a message full of hate
A crumbling government assembled to dabate
A mere formality and anyhow too late
To save the system of injustice and decay
Tinker, tailor, a poor man stole
Judge him not by anothers sole
Ambition in life to wield the stick
Upon the wounds that we all lick
On his instructions he changed into servants clothes
His father wished him luck and urged him then to go
A last embrace, unshedded tear, away from home
Tinker, tailor, a poor man stole
Judge him not by anothers sole
Ambition in life to wield the stick
Upon the wounds that we all lick
The peasants turn from work to light the burning fires
That shone like beacons with a message full of hate
A crumbling government assembled to dabate
A mere formality and anyhow too late
To save the system of injustice and decay
Tinker, tailor, a poor man stole
Judge him not by anothers sole
Ambition in life to wield the stick
Upon the wounds that we all lick
On his instructions he changed into servants clothes
His father wished him luck and urged him then to go
A last embrace, unshedded tear, away from home
Tinker, tailor, a poor man stole
Judge him not by anothers sole
Ambition in life to wield the stick
Upon the wounds that we all lick