eli, the barrow boy
decemberists, the
sells coal and marigolds and he cries out all down the day
below the tamarac she is crying
corn cobs and candlewax for the buying
would i could afford to buy my love a fine robe
made of gold and silk arabian thread
she is dead and gone and lying in a pine grove
and i must push my barrow all the day
and i must push my barrow all the day
he had drowned in the river down the way
they laid his body down in a churchyard
but still when the moon is out
would i could afford to buy my love a fine gown
made of gold and silk arabian thread
but i am dead and gone and lying in a church ground
but still i push my barrow all the day
still i push my barrow all the day