[00:01.11]In the wee small hours of sixpence
[00:10.65]And the lighted chandelier
[00:17.99]Stands a rusty old retainer
[00:21.83]Whose old eyes are filled with tears
[00:25.84]For his master Good Sir Galant
[00:29.39]Who is now off to the wars
[00:33.10]And although his eyes are crying
[00:37.02]We know grief is not the cause
[00:40.75]And if grief is not the reason
[00:44.21]He must be of sterner stuff
[00:47.78]And his sword though old and rusty
[00:51.06]Must be blunt as sharp enough
[00:55.30]In the wee small hours of sixpence
[00:59.03]And the broken window pane
[01:02.37]Stand the remnants of the evening
[01:06.39]Who are waiting all in vain
[01:10.17]For the crowing of the cockerel
[01:13.57]Showing morning is not night
[01:17.27]But the air is filled with silence
[01:21.24]And the daylight is not bright
[01:24.61]But still darkness is no reason
[01:28.51]We are men of sterner stuff
[01:32.06]And our swords though old and rusty
[01:35.63]Still are blunt as sharp enough
[01:54.12]In the wee small hours of sixpence
[01:57.73]And the hat-stand in the hall
[02:01.24]Waiting only for the morning
[02:04.93]Shadows flitting 'cross the wall
[02:08.83]And perhaps that old retainer
[02:12.27]Whom now giving of his all
[02:16.20]May have once been just as we are
[02:19.59]And now has no face at all
[02:23.31]But still grief was not the reason
[02:26.98]He was made of sterner stuff
[02:30.53]And his sword though old and rusty
[02:34.10]Still was blunt as sharp enough