[Verse 1] Guildhall doors swing wide at dawn, Sir Thomas More and the Mayor look on, Sir John Munday staggers in, forehead split and raw, He told the boys "go home" — that's all he saw, An apprentice swung a cudgel, cracked him clean, Blood on the stone where the lesson should have been. [Chorus] This is the hour the city holds its breath, Prisons cracking open, whispers close to death, Counters are the jails where debtors used to wait, Now the locks are busted, swinging on the gate. [Verse 2] More steps forward, voice steady as a bell, the Counters have been broken, he begins to tell, Then a messenger comes running, chest heaving hard and fast, Newgate too — the felons, the murderers loosed at last, Thieves and killers walking streets instead of chains, London's law a puddle washed out by the rains. [Verse 3] The Mayor barks the order, raise the drawbridge high, seal the river crossing so the mob can't multiply, Sends his men to Cornhill, sends them to Cheapside too, building walls of soldiers out of all he's got to do. [Chorus] This is the hour the city holds its breath, Prisons cracking open, whispers close to death, Counters are the jails where debtors used to wait, Now the locks are busted, swinging on the gate. [Verse 4] Shrewsbury and Surrey ride in with the king's own men, steel and banners, soldiers sent to end it then, Shrewsbury speaks low, grief behind his eyes: "The king laments, if one true subject bleed," Surrey stares out at the crowd gone wild with greed: "Oh power, what art thou in a madman's eyes!" [Bridge] But More lifts a hand, says wait, says hold the line, most of these are simple men who crossed a simple sign, They don't know the gallows wait at the end of this affray, let's talk before we fight — that's More's and the only way, A parley means a word exchanged before the war, "With a calm breath this flux of discontent," he swore, Flux, he means a flood, a rush, a tide run wild, "With breath of gravity, not dangerous blows" — he's mild. [Verse 5] So off they march, not swords drawn but tongues untied, to reason with the rioters before more men have died, The Guildhall taught the lesson every mayor should know, words can turn a mob around where blades would only sow. [Chorus] This is the hour the city holds its breath, Prisons cracking open, whispers close to death, Counters are the jails where debtors used to wait, Now the locks are busted, swinging on the gate. [Outro] Newgate's gates torn open, murderers set free, Cornhill lined with soldiers, Cheapside too, you see, But More walks toward the shouting with his calm breath drawn, talking down the fire before the steel is drawn.
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