As the Evening Declines

I am old, very old, but I don’t need a wattle
I am old, yes, I’m old, but I’m not a dry nettle
All I need is man who is high in his mettle
Glory oh glory, glory, when the evening declines
Glory oh glory, glory, as the evening declines
And before the black hunger, I’d husbands in plenty
Maybe your granddad was one of the many
Or was he that red-coat who swigged more than any?
Glory oh glory, glory, when the evening declines
Glory oh glory, glory, as the evening declines
You can have all your gold, the high king of all metals
With soft talk and kisses we’ll never want better
And the west of a ditch is the best of all settles
Glory oh glory, glory, when the evening declines
Glory oh glory, glory, as the evening declines
I am old, very old, but I don’t need a wattle
I am old, yes, I’m old, but I’m not a dry nettle
So you clout the pot, and I’ll clout the kettle
Glory oh glory, glory, when the evening declines
Glory oh glory, glory, as the evening declines