He was selling postcards from a paper stand
A whiskey bottle in his withered hand
He put a finger on a photo from an old magazine
And saw himself in the shadow of his dream
They found him with his head inside a tin-pot crown
Told him his feet stank and took him downtown
Called him agitator, spy and thief
Shut him up in solitary third degree
Take a long line, reel him in
He tried to appeal to the king of might
He said"I'm just excercising my sacred right"
The king he said"You ain't got no rights
You're a madman, a traitor, get outta my sight"
Take along line, reel him in
They put him aboard a well wound whirlwind
Pulled out his teeth and rold him to grin
He gave them a smile, pulled out a bottle of wine
And said"I never existed, you've been wasting your time"
Take a long line, reel him in
