The Poor Ditching Boy Fairport Convention

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[Verse 1]
Was there ever a winter so cold and so sad?
With the river too weary to flood
The storming wind cut through to my skin
But she cut through to my blood

[Verse 2]
I was looking for trouble to tangle my lines
When trouble come looking for me
I knew I was standing on treacherous ground
But I was sinking too fast to run free

[Chorus]
With her scheming, idle ways
She left me poor enough
The storm and the wind cut through to my skin
But she cuts through to my blood

[Violin Solo]

[Verse 3]
Now I would not be asking, I would not be seen
Either begging on a mountain or hill
Still I'm ready and I'm blind with my hands tied behind
For I've neither a mind nor a will