It was the dirty end of winter. Along the loom of the land. When I walked with sweet Sally. Hand upon hand. And the wind it bit bitter. For a boy of no means. With no shoes on his feet. And a knife in his jeans. Along the loom of the land. The mission bells peeled. From the tower at Saint Mary's. Down to Reprobate Fields. And I saw that the world. Was all blessed and bright. And Sally breathed softly. In the majestic night. O baby please don't cry. And try to keep. Your little hand upon my shoulder. Now go to sleep. The elms and the poplars. Were turning their backs. Past the rumbling station. We followed the tracks. We found an untrodden path. And followed it down. The moon in the sky. Like a dislodged crown. My hands they burned. In the folds of her coat. Breathing milky white air. From deep in her throat. O baby please don't cry. And try to keep. Your little head upon my shoulder. Now go to sleep. I told Sally in whispers. I'll never bring you harm. Her breast it was small. And warm in my palm. I told her the moon. Was a magical thing. That it shone gold in winter. And silver in spring. And we walked and walked. Across the endless sands. Just me and my Sally. Along the loom of the land. O baby please don't cry. And try to keep. Your little head upon my shoulder. Now go to sleep.