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Early morning as the cold hits.
She was left on her own as he passed.
Icy wind rips her old body.
Can't feel her fingers no more as she's cold to the core.

Feed the magpie. See the crow fly.
On the ridge upon Beggar's Hill.
As the famish and cold pushes on.
To Beggar's Hill the poor come to die

Worked a lifetime for his masters.
He was out just as fast as they died.
Not a penny, not even his old shoes.
His chapped lips and knuckles are torn now he can't take no more.

Feed the magpie. See the crow fly.
On the ridge upon Beggar's Hill.
As the famish and cold pushes on.
To Beggar's Hill the poor come to die.

When the sun will rise above the hill.
Find their inner peace at last they will.

Feed the magpie. See the crow fly.
On the ridge upon Beggar's Hill.
As the famish and cold pushes on.
To Beggar's Hill the poor come to die.

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