Eight oclock by Rebecca Clarke Lyrics
He stood, and heard the steeple
Sprinkle the quarters on the morning town
One, two, three, four, to market-place and people
It tossed them down
Strapped, noosed, nighing his hour
He stood and counted them and cursed his luck;
And then the clock collected in the tower
Its strength, and struck
Sprinkle the quarters on the morning town
One, two, three, four, to market-place and people
It tossed them down
Strapped, noosed, nighing his hour
He stood and counted them and cursed his luck;
And then the clock collected in the tower
Its strength, and struck