When I was a young man I burned my toes Now I have no chairs to sit on When I was a young man I raised my fields Now I have no fruit to suck on They say I am a sick old man See my sick old frame Smell my death as I pass by you My sick old wife she ends in life Waving at the old front door Giving off a wisdom that she never had never had never had before Oh what care I fair this very well Blankets turn so gravy oh Tonight I’ll sleep in the cold open fields in the arms of the raggle taggle gypsys oh Raggy raggid rags all about our door She’s gone with the raggle taggle gypsys oh When I was a young man I ground my knives Now I have no friends to call on When I was a young man I cracked my eyes Now I have sharp glass to crawl on Oh the days of wealth and needs When I had dark oil for burning Oh I was a young man with my golden pipe And now I am too sick for learning And I will blame the wonderer, I will blame the poor I will blame the raggid man knocking at my door I’ll blame his wife and raggid children crying at my feet And send them into yarhools wood my vengeance there vengeance there vengeance there to eat Oh what care I fair this very well Blankets turn so gravy oh Tonight I’ll sleep in the cold open fields in the arms of the raggle taggle gypsys oh Gone with the raggle taggle gypsys oh Gone with the raggle taggle gypsys oh Gone with the raggle taggle gypsys oh