The Decemberists - Eli, The Barrow Boy Lyrics
Eli, the barrowboy, you're the old townSells coal and marigolds and he cries out all down the dayBelow the tamarac she is cryingCorn cobs and candlewax for the buying, all down the dayWould I could afford to buy my love a fine robeMade of gold and silk arabian threadShe is dead and gone and lying in a pine groveAnd I must push my barrow all the dayAnd I must push my barrow all the dayEli, the barrowboy, when they found himDressed all in corduroy, he had drowned in the river down the wayThey laid his body down in a churchyardBut still when the moon is out, with his pushcart, he calls down the dayWould I could afford to buy my love a fine gownMade of gold and silk arabian threadBut I am dead and gone and lying in a church groundBut still I push my barrow all the dayStill I push my barrow all the day