I was born a butchers boy
I never lacked for meat
Purse strings tight as a bishop’s ***
My childhood lacked for sweets

My sweethearts now a butchers wife
Two lamb shanks for a ha penny
We waste our coin and copper hair
By eating sweets a plenty

The merchant comes to peddle time
The reaper dreads his arrival
Those with coin and copper hair
Can purchase their survival

I will die a butcher’s death
My sweets have sealed my fate
With empty purse and graying hair
The merchant comes to late