Devonside - Richard Thompson

By Devonside she was a-marching

It was a gang of no great size

And surrender was the banner that she carried

And hungry was the shiver in her eyes

She met a boy, his health was failing

She dropped the banner and took her prize

And the only food she had was bread and morphine

Ah, but he fed on the shiver in her eyes

By Devonside his love was drifting

He looked for comfort otherwise

And there never was a rope or chain about him

Ah, she held him with the shiver in her eyes

Ah, she said, my John, I’ll be your pillow

I’ll be your lover, mother, whore and wife

And he knew that he loved and never seen her

When the light fell from the shiver in her eyes