Steve Martin
Steve Martin
Steve Martin
Steve Martin
Steve Martin
Steve Martin
Steve Martin
Steve Martin
Steve Martin
Steve Martin
Steve Martin
Steve Martin
On a hill in Mold, North Wales
Sightings of a ghostly boy
Clad in gold glittering in the moonlight
King of boys your grave's been robbed
Sold for English Pounds
You can't wear your gold cape anymore
You don't roam the hillside like before
They took everything you had
And they left you cold like that
Long ago they stole a boy from the moonlight
King of boys your grave's been robbed
Sold for English Pounds
You can't wear your gold cape anymore
You don't roam the hillside like before
King of boys your grave's been robbed
Sold for English Pounds