作词 : Philip Powell
作曲 : Philip Powell
She cries in the chief place of concourse at the openings of the gate
In the city she utters her words saying
''How long you simple ones, will you love simplicity?''

''And how long will the scorners delight in their scorning?
And how long will the fools hate knowledge?
How long, you simple ones, will you love simplicity?''