Oh, hard is the fortune
Of all womankind,
She's always contolled,
She's always confined,
Controlled by her parents
Until she's a wife,
A slave to her husband
The rest of her life.
Oh, I'm just a poor girl
My fortune is sad,
I've always been courted
By the wagoner' lad,
He's courted me daily,
By night and by day,
And now he is loading
And going away.
Oh, my parents don't like him,
Because he is poor,
They say he's not worthy
Of entering my door,
He works for a living,
His money's his own,
And if they don't like it,
They can leave him alone.
"Oh, your horses are hungry,
Go feed them some hay,
Then sit down here by me,
Aslond as you may."
"My horses ain't hungry,
They won't eat your hay,
So fare thee well darlin',
I'l be one my way."
"Oh, your wagon needs greasing,
Your whip is to mend,
Then sit down here by my,
As long as you can."
My wagon is greasy,
My whip's in my hand,
So fare thee well darlin',
No longer to stand."
Writer(s): Joan Baez
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