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Was there ever a winter so cold and so sad
The river too weary to flood
Storm and the wind cut through to my skin;

She cut through to my blood

I wasn't looking for trouble to tangle my line
Trouble came looking for me
I knew I was standing on treacherous ground
Was sinking too fast to run free

With her scheming, idle ways
She left me poor enough
Storm and the wind cut through to my skin;
She cut through to my blood

I would not be asking, I would not be seen
Begging on a mountain or a 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
Storm and the wind cut through to my skin;
She cut through to my blood

It's bitter the need of the poor ditching boy
Always believe what they say
They tell him it's hard to be honest and true
Does he mind if he doesn't get paid?

With her scheming, idle ways
She left me poor enough
Storm and the wind cut through to my skin;
She cut through to my blood

With her scheming, idle ways
She left me poor enough
Storm and the wind cut through to my skin;
She cut through to my blood

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