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herbert howells - old meg lyrics

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there’s never the taste of a cherry for me
they’re out of my reach on the bough
and it’s hard to be seeing them hang on the tree
and no man to hand me them now

it’s hard to be travelling since billy boy died
with the devil’s own crick in my back
with the gout in my knees and a stitch in my side
and no man to carry my pack

it’s hard to be travelling the roads all alone
when cherries hang handy and ripe
and no man to find me a soft mossy stone
and no man to kindle my pipe

- herbert howells lyrics

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