| Song | Franklin's Table |
| Artist | Al Stewart |
| Album | Down in the Cellar |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Stewart | |
| Dinner with Ben Franklin on Friday night | |
| The invitation read | |
| Of course I wrote and thanked him | |
| I wouldn't miss it for the world I said | |
| His table is so well kept | |
| He plays the glass harmonica | |
| And talks of wind and kites | |
| The habits of the court of France | |
| And other strange delights | |
| Of course I've heard it all before | |
| On other wintry nights | |
| And yet there is no better wine or conversation | |
| The English call it claret | |
| And clear and red it sits inside my glass | |
| Sent to us from Paris | |
| A greater kindness never came to pass | |
| We'll drink his health, with the last | |
| He plays the glass harmonica | |
| And talks of wind and kites | |
| Of almanacs and spectacles | |
| And other strange delights | |
| Of course I've heard it all before | |
| On other wintry nights | |
| And yet there is no better wine or conversation | |
| Time goes by in stories | |
| Wine goes by, dark and young | |
| When it comes my turn here | |
| I'll be telling one with a purple tongue | |
| The night grows philosophic | |
| I miss a word or two, it must be said | |
| As I hear them talking | |
| I sink a little keeping in my chair | |
| Thanking the fates that brought me here | |
| He plays the glass harmonica | |
| And talks of wind and kites | |
| Of lightening and odometers | |
| And other strange delights | |
| Of course I've heard it all before | |
| On other wintry nights | |
| And yet there is no better wine or conversation |
| zuo ci : Stewart | |
| Dinner with Ben Franklin on Friday night | |
| The invitation read | |
| Of course I wrote and thanked him | |
| I wouldn' t miss it for the world I said | |
| His table is so well kept | |
| He plays the glass harmonica | |
| And talks of wind and kites | |
| The habits of the court of France | |
| And other strange delights | |
| Of course I' ve heard it all before | |
| On other wintry nights | |
| And yet there is no better wine or conversation | |
| The English call it claret | |
| And clear and red it sits inside my glass | |
| Sent to us from Paris | |
| A greater kindness never came to pass | |
| We' ll drink his health, with the last | |
| He plays the glass harmonica | |
| And talks of wind and kites | |
| Of almanacs and spectacles | |
| And other strange delights | |
| Of course I' ve heard it all before | |
| On other wintry nights | |
| And yet there is no better wine or conversation | |
| Time goes by in stories | |
| Wine goes by, dark and young | |
| When it comes my turn here | |
| I' ll be telling one with a purple tongue | |
| The night grows philosophic | |
| I miss a word or two, it must be said | |
| As I hear them talking | |
| I sink a little keeping in my chair | |
| Thanking the fates that brought me here | |
| He plays the glass harmonica | |
| And talks of wind and kites | |
| Of lightening and odometers | |
| And other strange delights | |
| Of course I' ve heard it all before | |
| On other wintry nights | |
| And yet there is no better wine or conversation |
| zuò cí : Stewart | |
| Dinner with Ben Franklin on Friday night | |
| The invitation read | |
| Of course I wrote and thanked him | |
| I wouldn' t miss it for the world I said | |
| His table is so well kept | |
| He plays the glass harmonica | |
| And talks of wind and kites | |
| The habits of the court of France | |
| And other strange delights | |
| Of course I' ve heard it all before | |
| On other wintry nights | |
| And yet there is no better wine or conversation | |
| The English call it claret | |
| And clear and red it sits inside my glass | |
| Sent to us from Paris | |
| A greater kindness never came to pass | |
| We' ll drink his health, with the last | |
| He plays the glass harmonica | |
| And talks of wind and kites | |
| Of almanacs and spectacles | |
| And other strange delights | |
| Of course I' ve heard it all before | |
| On other wintry nights | |
| And yet there is no better wine or conversation | |
| Time goes by in stories | |
| Wine goes by, dark and young | |
| When it comes my turn here | |
| I' ll be telling one with a purple tongue | |
| The night grows philosophic | |
| I miss a word or two, it must be said | |
| As I hear them talking | |
| I sink a little keeping in my chair | |
| Thanking the fates that brought me here | |
| He plays the glass harmonica | |
| And talks of wind and kites | |
| Of lightening and odometers | |
| And other strange delights | |
| Of course I' ve heard it all before | |
| On other wintry nights | |
| And yet there is no better wine or conversation |