The King is sitting on his throne, His white well-groomed beard He pays heed to obsequious men Whose truth he has never heard The lady with waxed shoes, Has never smelt the soil Under her manicured nails That didn't know the toil I am just a poor man On his own But they will never know What I've known The Queen, at sunset gazing Is impassive and alone Imprisoned in a golden jail A heart could turn to stone The bishop from the pulpit Is judging us down here He never knew those small sins Which make our life so dear I am just a poor man On his own But they will never know What I've known The peasant with the hunched back Clumps along his path Shattered by the struggles Of that rugged life he hath He stands up there on the hill Cherishing the dawn A smile drawn on his face While he softly croons this song I am just a poor man On his own They will never know What I've known I am just a poor man On his own They will never know What I've known I am just a poor man On his own They will never know What I've known