OLD WOMAN IN MAY

“Old woman by the hedgerow

In gown of withered black,

With beads and pins and buttons

And ribbons in your pack —

How many miles do you go?

To Dumbleton and back?”

“To Dumbleton and back, sir,

And round by Cotsall Hill,

I count the miles at morning,

At night I count them still,

A Jill without a Jack, sir,

I travel with a will.”

“It’ s little men are paying

For such as you can do,

You with the grey dust in your hair

And sharp nails in your shoe,

The young folks go a-Maying,

But what is May to you?”

“I care not what they pay me

While I can hear the call

Of cattle on the hillside,

And watch the blossoms fall

In a churchyard where maybe

There’ s company for all.”