(ian hunter)      I dreamt of being horses in shackles of gold   And the men that were young then are now terribly old   The graveyard was creaking with too many bones   While the bishop was praying his cassock was sold   Three cheers for the innocent though he is perverse   Three screams for the hangman as he cries for the hearse   I weep for the rebels conventional ways   For he loses his mind while the devious stay   By the way   If the world saluted you   Well what would you do if you could be there   Well would you still take me   Would you take me anywhere   If the world saluted you   Well what would you say when things were down   Would you still want me   Would you want me around      So come all ye faithful and slaughter your lambs   Your minds have been whipped by experienced hands   I wish we were children I'd welcome the change   And the mind of an old man you can't rearrange   Ain't it strange   If the world saluted you   Well what would you do if you could be there   Would you still   Would you still take me anywhere   If the world saluted you   What would you say when things were down   Would you still want me   Would you still want me around