Edgeworth of the band of the same name – blog, music, writings & art
It was made, it was made, it was almost here.
But they cut him from the trunk.
Come and laugh at the old maid dear.
He was almost true.
He was fed, he was fed, by the old maid dear.
Each hour through the night she cared.
But the farmer killed him in front of the old maid dear.
He was a farmer true.
She was buried by the farmer the following year.
Her hurt he never knew.
Come in died, then you’re in tide.
I would rather anew.