Digital Tradition Mirror

By the Dry Cardrona

By the Dry Cardrona
(James Baxter, D. Tomms)

Oh, I have seen the cherries bloom
     By the dry Cardrona,
Where I plucked them long ago
     On a day when I was sober,
     On a day when I was sober.

My father he wore a parson's coat,
     By the dry Cardrona,
He kept a tally of the sheep and the goat,
     But I was never sober,
     No, I was never sober.

My mother she sewed her Sunday skirts,
     By the dry Cardrona,
They say she died of a broken heart,
     For I was never sober,
     No, I was never sober.

And I loved a maiden, but only one,
     By the dry Cardrona.
She up and married a banker's son,
     For I was never sober,
     No, I was never sober.

So I married a widow of forty-nine,
     By the dry Cardrona,
She had a stable and sheep like mine,
     But I was never sober,
     No, I was never sober.

Oh, bury my bones till the judgement crack,
     By the dry Cardrona,
A blanket swag upon my back
     To pillow me, drunk or sober,
     To pillow me, drunk or sober.

Oh, the rivers run to a rimless grave,
     Even the dry Cardrona,
But nary a one will turn my way
     Till I am bone-cold sober,
     Till I am bone-cold sober.

And I have seen the cherries bloom
     By the dry Cardrona,
Where I plucked them long ago
     On a day when I was sober,
     On a day when I was sober.

CP

Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!

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