There's not too many horses in Oakland, at least that's what the mothers say,
So they line the streets to get a look at the ponies, take a peek at the king on his funeral day,
I got a feeling he's at the bottom of the ocean, round his neck hangs an old millstone,
Well, he might be there till hell freezes over,
Might be lonely but he won't be alone.
The last hurrah, the last hurrah,
You don't move, you don't make a sound,
The last hurrah, the last time around.
There's something 'bout sin and something 'bout salvation, they both seem to do real well,
You could die by the needle or be smothered in love, spend eternity in heaven or hell,
Well, the cat's got your tongue, but that's alright,
See the preacher man, he's been paid,
You had to get it killed in the Leavenworth Prison but you got yourself a nice parade.
The last hurrah, the last hurrah,
You don't move, you don't make a sound,
The last hurrah, the last time around.
