Samuel Holland Moreton Bold

Robert Wilson, cashier bold, built a manor in the folds of Thornton
With the money he stole from Brocklebank Ships, apprehended
The cashier bold, in Low Hill, Liverpool, and taken to the Hundred

Samuel Holland Moreton bold, scruples he would never hold, avaricious
Penurious, with blackened reputation, lord of the Hundred
At the court took possession, under crown and code, of the manor

Reverent Canon Fisher bold, after rightly catholic gold from Moreton
At the deathbed placing pen in hand, not a penny
Or a pound was left to nephew, niece, or wife of the Hundred

Left of purgatory pain, could a ghost have more to gain than Moreton
In the manor drifting room to room in despondence
Did the cashier bold or the right to riches lost keep heaven waiting?



Credits
Writer(s): Alexander Jackson, Adam Collins
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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