Thursday, 24 September 2009


all my bones they are gone, gone, gone
take my bones, i don't need none
cold, cold cupboard, lord, nothing to chew on!
suck all day on a cherry stone

dig a little hole, not three inches round
spit your pit in the hole in the ground
weep upon the spot for the starving of me!
till up grow a fine young cherry tree

well when the bough breaks, what'll you make for me?
a little willow cabin to rest on your knee
what'll i do with a trinket such as this?
think of your woman, who's gone to the west

but i'm starving and freezing in my measly old bed!
then i'll crawl across the salt flats to stroke your sweet head
come across the desert with no shoes on!
i love you truly, or i love no-one