Lyrics:

This is it folks, over the top
He was selling postcards from a paper stand
A whisky bottle in his withered hand
Put his finger on a photo from an old magazine
Saw himself in the shadow of his dream
They found him with his head inside a tin-pot crown
Told him his feet stank and took him downtown
Called him agitator, spy and thief
Shut him up in solitary third degree
Take a long line
Take a long line
Take a long line
Reel him in
He tried to appeal to the king of might
Said, 'I'm just exercising my sacred right'
The king he said, 'You ain't got no rights
You're a madman, a traitor, get outta my sight'
Take a long line
Take a long line
Take a long line
Reel him in

They found him with his head inside a tin-pot crown
Told him his feet stank and took him downtown
Called him agitator, spy and thief
Shut him up in solitary third degree
Then they put him aboard a well wound whirlwind
Pulled out his teeth and they told him to grin
He gave them a smile, pulled out a bottle of wine
And said, 'I never existed, you've been wasting your time'
Take a long line
Take a long line
Take a long line
Reel him in
Take a long line
Take a long line
Take a long line
Reel him in
Take a long line
Take a long line
Take a long, long, long, long line
Reel him in