The Decemberists Lyrics

3. Eli, The Barrow Boy

Eli, the barrowboy, you're the old town 
Sells coal and marigolds and he cries out all down the day 
Below the tamarac she is crying 
Corn cobs and candlewax for the buying, all down the day 

Would I could afford to buy my love a fine robe 
Made of gold and silk arabian thread 
She is dead and gone and lying in a pine grove 
And I must push my barrow all the day 
And I must push my barrow all the day 

Eli, the barrowboy, when they found him 
Dressed all in corduroy, he had drowned in the river down the way 
They laid his body down in a churchyard 
But still when the moon is out, with his pushcart, he calls down the day 

Would I could afford to buy my love a fine gown 
Made of gold and silk arabian thread 
But I am dead and gone and lying in a church ground 
But still I push my barrow all the day 
Still I push my barrow all the day

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