On the banks of the river where the willows hang down
And the wild birds all warble with a low moaning sound
Down in the hollow where the waters run cold
It was there I first listened to the lies that you told

Now I lie on my bed and I see your sweet face
The past I remember time cannot erase
The letter you wrote me it was written in shame
And I know that your conscience still echoe's my name

Now the nights are so long Lord sorrow runs deep
And nothing is worse htan a night without sleep
I'll walk out alone and look at the sky
To empty to sing to lonesome to cry

If the ladies were blackbirds and the ladies wore thrushes
I'd lie there for hours in the chilly cold marshes
If the ladies were squirrel's with high bushy talls
I'd fill up gun with rock salt and nails