| Eli, the Barrow Boy, from 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 | |
| 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 | |
| So I push my barrow all the day | |
| Oooh.... | |
| So I push my barrow all the day.... |
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