Riddle me this, my friend.
Whose fairy tale has come to an end?
The ivory tower stands high on a hill
Flinging she-cannon stone,
but it's standing still
From a distance it shows us a grand facade
But the holes are exposed when the wind blows hard
Some call it a folly built for fools But
the ones who wrecked it set the rules
If the face was imposing without a crack
There'd never be a need to build the sides and
back Rich man's folly,
rich
man's folly
At the top of this tower there flies a flag
Once it danced in the breeze now it hangs like
a rag The colors are faded, the life is gone
It's not worth a smile, a salute, or a song
Rich man's folly,
rich
man's folly
The people who planted it had golden power
The people who built it taught to cower
If the workers relented and quit the hire
There'd be no one to keep the queen bee alive
Rich
man's folly,
rich
man's folly
Riddle me this, my friend.
Whose fairy tale has come to an end?
Who for hundreds of years has roared its
luck Who now is a lame and a sitting dunk?
Who struts on the stage but who weeps in the hall?
Who is the biggest folly of all?
Who lives in an ivory tower so high
Whose race is run and whose end is nigh?
Rich man's folly,
rich man's folly