I knew I was standing on treacherous ground
I was looking for trouble to tangle my line
I would not be asking, I would not be seen
The storming wind cut through to my skin
The storming wind cut through to my skin
A-beggin’ on mountain or hill
With her scheming, idle ways
The storming wind cut through to my skin
But she cut through to my blood
She left me poor enough
With her scheming, idle ways
But I’m ready and blind with my hands tied behind
I’ve neither a mind nor a will
It’s bitter the need of the poor ditching boy
I was sinking too fast to run free
Does he mind if he doesn’t get paid?
She left me poor enough
But she cut through to my blood
They tell him it’s hard to be honest and true
The storming wind cut through to my skin
But trouble came looking for me
With her scheming, idle ways
But she cut through to my blood
He’ll always believe what they say
She left me poor enough
