DOCTOR:
Monday the twenty-sixth of March
The patient's passing seizures are becoming more pronounced by the day
The underlying cause
Seems to be a slow progressive decay
If I don't find a cure
I fear that my patient must surely fade away
But I swear
I'll apply my science
To the cause
Brooking no defiance
I'll deliver her from this malady
She'll dance again
And I'll never forget when we first were courting
And she faced me, and her eyes were gleaming
In the moonlight, and she spoke so sweetly

WIFE:
Don't let me go, my darling
Hold me safely 'til the morning
Promise, when the lights are fading
You'll save me

DOCTOR:
Tuesday the seventeenth of May
A worrying symptom has reared its head this week
She's been bedbound for a month
And now the patient is no longer able to speak
She tries to utter sounds
But the grip of the illness is strong and the patient is weak
On the bed, in a cold sweat
Like a corpse, but she'll live yet
When I find the cure, I can surely promise
She'll laugh again
As she did on our wedding day
When we danced, and laughed the world away
Even now I can hear her saying

WIFE:
Don't let me go, my darling
Hold me safely 'til the morning
Promise, when the lights are fading
You'll save me

DOCTOR:
Sunday the twenty-third of June
The patient no longer responds to stimuli of any kind
She's now my only charge
I clothe her and feed her, and nightly I read by her side
For though she's paralysed
I know that inside there must still be a functioning mind
Neatly laid on the bedsheet
I can still hear her fading heart-beat
I'll keep her stable and continue my research
She'll smile again
And I must bring her back to me
In her eyes I can see the gleam
In my mind I can hear her pleading

WIFE:
Don't let me go, my darling
Hold me safely 'til the morning
Promise, when the lights are fading
You'll save me

DOCTOR:
Tuesday the eighteenth of July
My latest apparatus is the only thing that's keeping her alive
I had to stop her heart
The mechanical replacement will ensure the other organs can survive
Her body is destroyed
But what nature has neglected the fruit of modern science shall provide
And I've broken every code of practice
But for my love I'd shift the planet's axis
She'll return to me when she's been repaired
She'll live again
And I swear I can see the gleam
In her eyes amidst the new machines
And at night I can hear her whisper

WIFE:
Don't let me go, my darling
Hold me safely 'til the morning
Promise, when the lights are fading
You'll save me
You'll save me

That Mr McArthur's looked all over town,
But he won't find me now for I'm off coastward bound.
And I'm trading the smog for some fresh salt sea air
And he'll never catch on that I'm there.

I was once his apprentice, in the clock-making trade,
And the miser made me work for every penny of my wage.
Til he found he could replace me with a clockwork machine,
And he threw me right out on the street.

I'm not the type who would grovel and pray
That he deign to recant and permit to stay,
So I cursed him and left
And I solemnly swore that he'd pay.

Now Mr McArthur has very poor eyes,
And he never did see me when he left work at night.
And once in a while he would forget to check
That his workshop back window was closed.

No I'm not a burglar and I'm no vandal nor.
The old man had to suffer, but I wanted something more:
I wanted him to feel it and know it was me,
And I knew that his clocks were the key.

I sat in his workshop, my thoughts running wild,
And it suddenly hit me, and I looked up and I smiled
For I knew that I'd have him
And I knew that I'd do it in style.

I tell you that clockwork's a powerful thing;
There's a terrible strength in those tightly wound springs.
And a gentleman's pocketwatch stays by his heart,
And that's where the damage can start.

Now I'm no machine but I can work when I choose,
With hands good as any when I've something to prove.
So I stayed up all night among cogs, springs and screws,
And I didn't stop till I was through.

I rigged up a watch to do more than just chime ,
And I didn't baulk once at the depth of my crime -
A most perfect invention
That still kept impeccable time.

The next week a young man stopped by in the shop,
Took a shine to a timepiece and paid on the spot.
He wound it, and wore it, and at 6 on the dot
He came to a messy and permanent stop.

Now Mr McArthur's got blood on his hands,
And he barely made bail, he's a ruined man,
And surely he knows who his downfall was planned by,
It's all worked out like clockwork.