My houses ain't hungry
My houses ain't hungry, they won't eat your hay So fare you well Polly, I'm going away Your parents don't like me, they say I'm too poor They say I'm not worthy to enter your door My parents don't like you, you're poor I am told But it's your love I'm waiting, not silver or gold Then come with me Polly, we'll ride till we come To some little cabin, we'll call it our home Sparking is pleasure, but parting is grief And a false headed lover is worse than a thief A thief will just rob you and take what you have But a faise hearted lover will lead you to the grave