On a Monday morning, From a stupor I did sprout, Raving in an ale house, 'Til my money all ran out, I did not need direction, It was my conscience called me out, Where chats are cheap and talk is often free. When I'm in a mirror, My appearance is not so odd, I change clothes, More than a grave-digger turns the sod, A devil in the darkness, I'm a different man before God, And when the Devil is listening. The wind tonight is howling up the alleys, The moon is like the barrel of a gun. And the give and get, Hasn't changed me yet, I will keep you always in my mind. ♪ I can see my funeral, And there's no one in the church, From the pulpit, All across the seats - Through the mountains, Over fields, And back to this alley, Eighty-odd years of living to be free. The wind tonight is howling up the alleys, The moon is like the barrel of a gun. And the give and get, hasn't changed me yet, I will keep you always in my mind.