by Gavin Davenport
Some they say the travelling man, he is the city's blight
That he will rob the city man in some blind lane by night
But I tell you that the chap in rags or lord in golden chains
It matters not how much they have, they'll rob you just the same
Chorus:
Hark! Hark! The dogs do bark and all the rogues have come to town
Some in rags, some in jags and some in velvet gowns
So put no faith in rich men, though gold they have in store
For now they have the taste of it, they want it ten times more
And yet you scorn the beggar man that calls out for each crust
And on the pinstriped wolf's head you invest your faith and trust
And put the biggest rogues of all, your Parliament within
So don't despise the poor man though his clothes be awful thin
[chorus]
So don't see the beggar as a thief, but see him as a man
Likewise the lords, but look beneath and trust just where you can
For you meet with thieves and you eat with thieves and you deal with thieves each day
And you dote on thieves and you vote for thieves and still their games do play