Old Woman In May

“Old woman by the hedgerow In gown of withered black, With beads and pins and buttons And ribbons in your pack-- How many miles do you go? To Dumbleton and back?”

“To Dumbleton and back, sir, And round by Cotsall Hill, I count the miles at morning, At night I count them still, A Jill without a Jack, sir, I travel with a will.”

“It’s little men are paying For such as you can do, You with the grey dust in your hair And sharp nails in your shoe, The young folks go a-Maying, But what is May to you?”

“I care not what they pay me While I can hear the call Of cattle on the hillside, And watch the blossoms fall In a churchyard where maybe There’s company for all.”