By Devonside she was a-marching. It was a gang of no great size. And surrender was the banner that she carried. And hungry was the shiver in her eyes. She met a boy his health was failing. She dropped the banner and took her prize. And the only food she had was bread and morphine. Ah but he fed on the shiver in her eyes. By Devonside his love was drifting. He looked for comfort otherwise. And there never was a rope or chain about him. Ah she held him with the shiver in her eyes. Ah she said my John I’ll be your pillow. I’ll be your lover mother whore and wife. And he knew that he loved and never seen her. When the light fell from the shiver in her eyes