[Verse 1] Gate of the Tower, the river thick with boats, Thames all choked with hulls like a logjam wearing coats, Warders lock their arms, hold the press at bay, half of London's come to watch a good man walk away. First Warder leans in, says what they all agree, word spreads soft as tide rolling out to sea, no scandal in his fall, no treason in his name, just a hush of wonder passing down the lane. [Chorus] "A wiser or more virtuous gentleman Was never bred in England" — that's the line they send, through the press of people, through the salt-air hush, the whole city murmurs it before the final rush. [Verse 2] A poor woman shoves past shoulder, past shield, two years she's waited for her case to be sealed, Chancery's her word for the Lord Chancellor's court, where More kept her papers, weighed her plain report. But the king has gathered every court to his hand, "you must sue to him now" — that's More's command, no coldness in it, just a hard, plain truth, she wails out her grief for the gentlest man of truth: "Farewell the best friend that the poor e'er had" — equal parts devotion, equal parts sad. [Chorus] "A wiser or more virtuous gentleman Was never bred in England" — the warders understand, through the press of people, through the salt-air hush, the whole city murmurs it before the final rush. [Verse 3] Gentleman Porter steps up, claims his fee, an upper garment — that's the custom, you see, suitor or prisoner, the coat's his pay, More just laughs and tosses his cap away. He quips while handing it, calm as the clearest sky: "Sure else my cap had been the uppermost" — that's his reply, then turns to Surrey, a fellow poet, a friend, trades a farewell verse before the long descend. [Bridge] Warders guard the walls — now you know the name, suitor's just a claimant, pressing his small claim, abroad simply means out, walking free and light, hold these four words close and you'll read the scene right. Roper wrote it down, how More jested near the end, that's how London kept him — wit without a bend. [Verse 4] He greets his prison gently, steps past the gate, conscience clean as morning, no fear, no debate, "God is as strong here as he is abroad" — stone can't cage a conscience answering to God. [Chorus] "A wiser or more virtuous gentleman Was never bred in England" — the warders understand, through the press of people, through the salt-air hush, the city still remembers before the final rush. [Outro] Boats on the Thames, the gate swings shut and slow, a wise man walks in laughing — the bravest way to go.
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