Down by a river where willows hang down
And wild birds warble with a mournful sound
Down in some hollow where waters run cold
Was there I first listened to lies she told

And now I lie in my bed and I see her sweet face
And the past I remember time can not erase
The letters she wrote were written in shame
And I know that her conscience still echos my name

And the nights are so long and sorrow runs deep
And nothing is worse than a night without sleep
So I walk out alone and I look at the sky
Too lonesome to sing, too empty to cry

If the ladies was blackbirds and the ladies was thrushes
I would lie there for hour in the killing cold marshes
If the ladies was squirrels with high bushy tails
I would fill up my shotgun with rock salt and nails