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The Decemberists

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The Decemberists

Eli, the Barrowboy

Lyricist：Colin Patrick Meloy

Eli, the barrow boy, 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 candle wax 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

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Eli, the barrow boy, 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