[00:03.99]In the wee small hours of sixpence
[00:08.07]And the lighted chandelier
[00:12.00]Stands a rusty old retainer
[00:16.29]Whose old eyes are filled with tears
[00:20.40]For his master Good Sir Galant
[00:24.48]Who is now off to the wars
[00:28.62]And although his eyes are crying
[00:32.79]We know grief is not the cause
[00:37.02]And if grief is not the reason
[00:40.98]He must be of sterner stuff
[00:45.06]And his sword though old and rusty
[00:48.93]Must be blunt as sharp enough
[00:53.22]In the wee small hours of sixpence
[00:57.36]And the broken window pane
[01:01.05]Stand the remnants of the evening
[01:05.45]Who are waiting all in vain
[01:09.54]For the crowing of the cockerel
[01:13.41]Showing morning is not night
[01:17.70]But the air is filled with silence
[01:21.75]And the daylight is not bright
[01:25.92]But still darkness is no reason
[01:29.94]We are men of sterner stuff
[01:34.05]And our swords though old and rusty
[01:37.89]Still are blunt as sharp enough
[01:58.32]In the wee small hours of sixpence
[02:02.28]And the hat stand in the hall
[02:06.15]Waiting only for the morning
[02:10.16]Shadows flitting 'cross the wall
[02:14.64]And perhaps that old retainer
[02:18.57]Whom now giving of his all
[02:22.56]May have once been just as we are
[02:26.52]And now has no face at all
[02:30.72]But still grief was not the reason
[02:34.77]He was made of sterner stuff
[02:38.94]And his sword though old and rusty
[02:42.87]Still was blunt as sharp enough