Fairport Convention - The poor ditching boy

Was there ^Aever a winter so cold and so sad With the river too weary to ^Dflood The ^Astormy wind cut through to my skin But ^Dshe cut ^Ethrough to my ^Ablood ^D

I was ^Alooking for trouble to tangle my line But trouble come a-looking for ^Dme I ^Aknew I was standing on treacherous ground But I was ^Dsinking too ^Efast to run ^Afree

With her ^Dschem^Bming, ^Aidle ^Eways She ^Dleft me ^Bmpoor e^Anough ^AThe storming wind cut through to my skin But ^Dshe cut ^Ethrough to me ^Ablo^Bmod..^E..

^ANow I would not be asking, I would not be seen Either begging on a mountain or ^Dhill 'Til I’m ^Aready and I’m blind, with my arms tied behind But I’ve ^Dneither a ^Emind nor a ^Awill ^D

Oh, it’s ^Abitter the need of the poor ditching boy For he’ll always believe what they ^Dsay But they ^Atell him it’s hard to be honest and true Does he ^Dmind that he ^Edoesn’t get ^Apaid?

With her ^Dschem^Bming, ^Aidle ^Eways She ^Dleft me ^Bmpoor e^Anough ^AThe storming wind cut through to my skin But ^Dshe cut ^Ethrough to me ^Ablood

With her ^Dschem^Bming, ^Aidle ^Eways She ^Dleft me ^Bmpoor e^Anough ^AThe storming wind cut through to my skin But ^Dshe cut ^Ethrough to me ^Dbloo^Ed...^A..