asking for change, but just getting wet.
And the merchants walked by,
dressed in their cloaks,
muttering some hatreds about begging folks.
And me and George Fox rode back through the shires
over the fields and the ditches and the mires
over the hills and down through the dales
of England and Scotland and Wales.
And a voice deep within, it started to sing
about change, change, change.
For love of this world and everything in it
and change, change, change...