I'll take a pound for leaving
And you can do the same
On the road you'll need it
Or you won't see the change
At least I thought of leaving
You can't say the same
When the winter scolds your heathen lungs
We'll march in file again
Haul a coat of russet
Strong winds, heavy rain
Before the poachers find us shorn again
In measured, lonely shame
One, five
Four, one
One, five
Four, one