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Was there ever a winter
so cold and so sad
The river too weary to flood
The storming wind cut through to my skin
But she cut through to my blood
I was looking for
trouble to tangle my line
But trouble came looking for me
I knew I was standing on treacherous ground
I was sinking too fast to run free
With her scheming idle ways
She left me poor enough
The storming wind cut through to my skin
But she cut through to my blood
I would not be asking
I would not be seen
A-begging on mountain or hill
But I'm ready and blind with
my hands tied behind
I've neither a mind nor a will
With her scheming idle ways
She left me poor enough
The storming wind cut through to my skin
But she cut through to my blood
It's bitter the need of
the poor ditching boy
Hell always believe what they say
They tell him it's hard to
be honest and true
Does he mind if he doesnt get paid
With her scheming idle ways
She left me poor enough
The storming wind
cut through to my skin
But she cut through to my blood
The storming wind
cut through to my skin
But she cut through to my blood
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