When I was a young man, I burned my tools. Now I have no chairs to sit on. When I was a young man I razed my fields, Now I have no fruit to suck on. They say I am a sick old man See my sick old frame Smell my death as I pass by you. My sick old wife She ends her life Waiting at the old front door Women offer wisdom that She never had, Never had, Never had before. Oh what can I feed you smelly bag? When kids turn so gravy oh Tonight I'll sleep in the cold open field In the arms of the raggle-taggle gypsies-oh Ragged ragged rats all about our door, She's gone with the raggle-taggle gypsies-oh When I was a young lad, I ground my nines, Now I have no friends to call on When I was a young man, I cracked my eyes, Now I have sharp glass to crawl on. Oh the days of wealth and knees, When I had dark oil for burning. Oh I was a young man with my golden pipe, And now I am too sick for learning. And I will blame the wanderer, I will blame the poor, I will blame the ragged man A-knockin' at my door I'll blame his wife and ragged children Crying at my feet And send them into yarl's wood My vengence there Vengence there Vengence there to eat Oh what can I find use for a bag, When kids turn so gravy oh, Tonight I'll sleep in the cold open field In the arms of the raggle-taggle gypsies-oh Come with the raggle-taggle gypsies-oh. Come with the raggle-taggle gypsies-oh. Come with the raggle-taggle gypsies-oh. She's gone with the raggle-taggle gypsies-oh.