O Harold, O Harold

             come trundle your barrow

the world runs away like a wheel

             and whatever you see

             is whatever you saw

and the barrow is full don’t you feel
It’s breaking it’s broken

             I’m taking a token

the world runs wherever it will

             and whatever you say

             is whatever you’ll sigh

and the sorrow sinks under the sill
Beloved, believe it

             what we have received, it

will wind itself down in a wail

             and whatever we sought

             will be covered in soot

and the bills blow away with the mail
My anger, my hunger

             won’t grow any younger

the world wears a stitch in its side

             and whatever you sow

             is whatever you owe

and the harrow comes dragging behind
O Harold, O Harold

             come trundle your barrow

the world runs away like a wheel

             and whatever you see

             is whatever you saw

and the barrow is full don’t you feel
It deepens it darkens

             and nobody harkens

the world tumbles down in the well

             where it mars and it mends

             oh the world never ends

 all the store of the stories to tell