Skinny Lister - Forty Pound Wedding lyrics

Well, as I walked down the metal road With all but forty pounds Only the bells around my waist The cut-throats to confound No sharp-eyed rogue would rob me No vagabond likewise And I bet my hide I'll win my bride with the flashing bright-blue eyes Well, the first I met was a tinker With gold rings to sell Each one cost a tenner But some looked twice as well And I said, "That's lucky for me," And parted with some cash To take a golden wedding band To my deserving la** Well, as I walked down the metal road With all but thirty pounds Only the bells around my waist The cut-throats to confound No sharp-eyed rogue would rob me No vagabond likewise And I bet my hide I'll win my bride with the flashing bright-blue eyes Well, the next I met was a gypsy She had a yard of Honiton lace Eyes as brown as berries With an honest, open face And I said "That's lucky for me," And parted with some cash To take a beautiful wedding veil To my deserving la** Well, as I walked down the metal road With all but twenty pounds Only the bells around my waist The cut-throats to confound No sharp-eyed rogue would rob me No vagabond likewise And I bet my hide I'll win my bride with the flashing bright-blue eyes Well, the next I met was an urchin He had orchids by the score Blues and reds and yellows To make the sun feel sore And I said "That's lucky for me," And parted with some cash To take a rare wedding bouquet To my deserving la** Well, as I walked down the metal road With all but ten pounds Only the bells around my waist The cut-throats to confound No sharp-eyed rogue would rob me No vagabond likewise And I bet my hide I'll win my bride with the flashing bright-blue eyes Well, the last I met was a farmer He had a Magnum of champagne He wanted fifteen guineas But I clinched it just the same And I said, "That's lucky for me! Now we can raise a gla** And drink a sparkling wedding toast To my deserving la**!" Well, as Father Reed's an ignorant man You can hear him loudly call "It's a curtain ring on her finger And her veil's a gypsy's shawl And what a fine bunch of wayside weeds Fresh-picked from down the lane And a wedding cup of cider sets us on the road again." Well, as I walked down the metal road With never a weary pound Only the bells around my waist The cut-throats to confound No sharp-eyed rogue would rob me No vagabond likewise And I kept my hide and I won my bride with the flashing bright-blue eyes