3 February 2013 0 Comments

The Dry Cadrona


Oh I can tell where the cherries grow,


By the dry Cardrona


Where I picked them long ago,


On a day when I was sober


On a day when I was sober.


(Audience repeats the last line of each verse)


 


My father wore a parson’s coat


By the dry Cardrona


He kept a tally of the sheep and the goats,


And I was never sober.


 


My mother sewed her Sunday skirt


By the dry Cardrona


They say she died of a broken heart


‘Cause I was never sober.


 


I loved a young miss, and only one


By the dry Cardrona


But she up and married the banker’s son,


For I was never sober.


 


I courted a widow of forty-nine


By the dry Cardrona


She owned a stable and a Scheelite mine,


But I was never sober.


 


Oh lay my bones till the judgement crack


By the dry Cardrona


A blanket swag upon my back,


To pillow me drunk or sober.


 


All rivers run to the rimless grave


Even the wild Cardrona,


But never a one will come my way


Till I am stone cold sober.


 


But I can tell where the cherries grow,


By the dry Cardrona


Where I picked them long ago,


On a day when I was sober.

 

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