Count Your Coins (And Throw Them Over My Shoulder)

Never sing for my supper
I never help my neighbour
Never do what is proper
For my share of labour

I'm a poor boy
And I'm a rover
Count your coins and
Throw them over my shoulder
I may grow older

Nobody knows
How cold it grows
And nobody sees
How shaky my knees

Nobody cares
How steep my stairs
And nobody smiles
If I cross their stiles

Oh poor boy
So sorry for himself
Oh poor boy
So worried for his health

You may say every day
Where will he stay tonight

Never know what I came for
Seems that I've forgotten
Never ask what I came for
Or how I was begotten

I'm a poor boy
And I'm a ranger
Things I say
May seem stranger than Sunday
Changing to Monday

Nobody knows
How cold it flows
And nobody feels
The worn down heels

Nobody's eyes
Make the skies
Nobody spreads
Their aching heads

Oh poor boy
So worried for his life
Oh poor boy
So keen to take a wife

He's a mess but he'll say yes
If you just dress in white

Nobody knows
How cold it blows
And nobody sees
How shaky my knees

Nobody cares
How steep my stairs
And nobody smiles
If you cross their stiles

Oh poor boy
So sorry for himself
Oh poor boy
So worried for his health

You may say every day
Where will he stay tonight

Oh poor boy
So worried for his life
Oh poor boy
So keen to take a wife

Oh poor boy
So sorry for himself
Oh poor boy
So worried for his health
Oh poor boy