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.
