Verse 1
Good morrow to the folk that wake at noon,
And spend their days beneath a silver moon.
Their thumbs do dance upon enchanted panes,
Whilst unseen merchants harvest all their brains.
A glowing glass doth rest in every palm,
It bringeth war and jest with equal calm.
One touch revealeth kingdoms far away,
Yet stealeth hours a hundred times a day.
The maid seeks praise from strangers she ne’er met,
The knight counts hearts as though they paid his debt.
Each crieth, “See me! Hear me! Know my name!”
Whilst feeding logs unto a boundless flame.
Pre-Chorus
What curious age hath fortune brought to pass?
We worship now the glowing glass.
Chorus
Hark! The town criers never cease,
Their endless shouting murders peace.
Hark! The town criers never cease,
And every outrage seeks increase.
A thousand voices fill the air,
Yet precious few have aught to share.
Hark! The town criers never cease,
Their noise groweth, but wisdom’s less.
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Verse 2
The merchants know what dreams invade thy sleep,
What secrets thou wouldst rather buried keep.
Invisible they follow where thou tread,
And sell predictions fashioned from thy head.
The scholars once sought truth through toil and strain,
Now many seek a headline to explain.
A fleeting phrase, a fragment, or a jest,
And suddenly all deem themselves the best.
The taverns once were built of oak and stone,
Now every fool may shout from forth a throne.
The wise and witless share the selfsame stage,
And all demand to be the learned sage.
Pre-Chorus
What curious age hath fortune brought to pass?
We worship now the glowing glass.
Chorus
Hark! The town criers never cease,
Their endless shouting murders peace.
Hark! The town criers never cease,
And every outrage seeks increase.
A thousand voices fill the air,
Yet precious few have aught to share.
Hark! The town criers never cease,
Their noise groweth, but wisdom’s less.
⸻
Bridge
The stars above remain unchanged,
Though all below hath rearranged.
The tools are new, the hearts the same,
Still pride and love do play their game.
For every rogue that spreads deceit,
Another soul spreads something sweet.
For every curse cast through the wire,
Another lifts a brother higher.
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Final Chorus
Hark! The town criers never cease,
Yet still I seek a moment’s peace.
Hark! The town criers never cease,
But kindness too may yet increase.
Though shadows stalk the crowded square,
Some honest voices linger there.
Hark! The town criers never cease,
Yet hope endureth through the din.
Outro
So use thy glass, but be not ruled.
Let not thy spirit be thus fooled.
For all these wonders man hath wrought,
The rarest thing remaineth thought.
