Eli, the barrow boy, Of the old town Sells coal and marigolds, And he cries out, All down the day,
Below the tamaracks, He is crying, “Corn cobs and candle wax for the buying”, All down the day,
“Would I could afford to buy my love a fine robe, Made of gold and silk Arabian thread, But she is dead and gone and lying in a pine grove, And I must push my barrow all the day, And I must push my barrow all the day.”,
Eli, the barrow boy, When they found him, Dressed all in corduroy, He had drowned in, The river down the way,
They laid his body down in a church yard, But still when the moon is out, With his push cart, He calls down the day,
“Would I could afford to buy my love a fine gown, Made of gold and silk Arabian thread, But I am dead and gone and lying in a church ground, And still I push my barrow all the day, Still I push my barrow all the day.”,
- The Decemberists