Old Woman in May

“Old woman by the hedgerow
In gown of withered black,
With beads and pins and buttons
And ribbons in your pack--
How many miles do you go?
To Dumbleton and back?”

“To Dumbleton and back, sir,
And round by Cotsall Hill,
I count the miles at morning,
At night I count them still,
A Jill without a Jack, sir,
I travel with a will.”

“It’s little men are paying
For such as you can do,
You with the grey dust in your hair
And sharp nails in your shoe,
The young folks go a-Maying,
But what is May to you?”

“I care not what they pay me
While I can hear the call
Of cattle on the hillside,
And watch the blossoms fall
In a churchyard where maybe
There’s company for all.”