The Ditching Boy

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
 (Chor.)
 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
 (Chor.)
 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?
 (Chor. x2)