On a Monday morning,
From a stupor I did sprout,
Raving in an ale house,
'Til my money all ran out,
I did not need direction,
It was my conscience called me out,
Where chats are cheap and talk is often free.
When I'm in a mirror,
My appearance is not so odd,
I change clothes,
More than a grave-digger turns the sod,
A devil in the darkness,
I'm a different man before God,
And when the Devil is listening.
The wind tonight is howling up the alleys,
The moon is like the barrel of a gun.
And the give and get,
Hasn't changed me yet,
I will keep you always in my mind.
I can see my funeral,
And there's no one in the church,
From the pulpit,
All across the seats -
Through the mountains,
Over fields,
And back to this alley,
Eighty-odd years of living to be free.
The wind tonight is howling up the alleys,
The moon is like the barrel of a gun.
And the give and get, hasn't changed me yet,
I will keep you always in my mind.
