1. For Old Henry

From the recording Foul Weather Friends


For Old Henry

I was born in my home and I’ll die with eyes open
Bury me at the crossroads with my face towards heaven
Put two pennies on my eyelids for the girl who drives the ferry
A silver coin on my tongue for Old Henry

Mean as a Monday, as a glass of whisky neat
Won’t be at church on Sunday, got the devil in my feet

No shirt on my back, the good lord takes and takes away
Took my memory, took my dignity, then he sent me on my way

Gentlemen might agree but upon a woman’s oath
You can’t have one or the other, it’s nothing or it’s both

What’s good for the workers? What’s good for the drones?
It’s younger than the ocean, but it’s older than bones

These feet are for the path, this food is for the plate
My hands are all their own, they’ll fail me sure as fate