For ten weeks now number three stood empty 
Nobody thought there would be 
Family laughter behind the windows 
Or a Christmas tree. 
Then a couple from up north 
Sorrow and his wife arrived 
Before the sun had left the streets 
They were living inside. 

Then before too long 
The street it rang with the sound 
From number three there came a cry 
S. F. Sorrow is born. 

The sunlight of his days 
Was spent in the grey of his mind 
As he stole love with a tongue of lies 
The world is shrinking in size