Father has the market place
Done us any good
Like you always claimed it would
The fields dry and barren
And there's blight upon the vine
But as long as your cup's full
Everything is fine 

Son has your sympathy
Done us any good
Like you always claimed it would
You sing to the choir and they know every line
But when they leave your would
They return to mine

You think your voice is real
I thunder while you squeel
So you can ring their ears
But I'm the one they hear