(Ian Hunter)

I dreamt of being horses in shackles of gold
And the men that were young then are now terribly old

The graveyard was creaking with too many bones
While the bishop was praying his cassock was sold
Three cheers for the innocent though he is perverse
Three screams for the hangman as he cries for the hearse
I weep for the rebels conventional ways
For he loses his mind while the devious stay
By the way
If the world saluted you
Well what would you do if you could be there
Well would you still take me
Would you take me anywhere
If the world saluted you
Well what would you say when things were down
Would you still want me
Would you want me around

So come all ye faithful and slaughter your lambs
Your minds have been whipped by experienced hands
I wish we were children I'd welcome the change
And the mind of an old man you can't rearrange
Ain't it strange
If the world saluted you
Well what would you do if you could be there
Would you still
Would you still take me anywhere
If the world saluted you
What would you say when things were down
Would you still want me
Would you still want me around