In The Wee Small Hours Of Sixpence Lyrics - Procol Harum

In the wee small hours of sixpence 

And the lighted chandelier 

Stands a rusty old retainer 

Whose old eyes are filled with tears 

For his master, Good Sir Galant, 

Who is now off to the wars 

And although his eyes are crying 

We know grief is not the cause 

And if grief is not the reason 

He must be of sterner stuff 

And his sword though old and rusty 

Must be blunt as sharp enough 

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In the wee small hours of sixpence 

And the broken window pane 

Stand the remnants of the evening 

Who are waiting all in vain 

For the crowing of the cockerel 

Showing morning is not night 

But the air is filled with silence 

And the daylight is not bright 

But still darkness is no reason 

We are men of sterner stuff 

And our swords though old and rusty 

Still are blunt as sharp enough. 

Photos 

In the wee small hours of sixpence 

And the hat-stand in the hall 

Waiting only for the morning 

Shadows flitting 'cross the wall 

And perhaps that old retainer 

Whom now giving of his all 

May have once been just as we are 

And now has no face at all. 

But still grief was not the reason 

He was made of sterner stuff 

And his sword though old and rusty 

Still was blunt as sharp enough.