On the banks of the river where the willow hang down
Where the wild birds all warble with a low moaning sound
Down in the hollow where the water runs 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
And the past I remember time cannot erase
The letter you wrote me it was written in shame
And I know that your conscience still echos my name
Now the nights are so lonely lord sorrow runs deep
Nothing is worse than a night without sleep
I walk out alone and look at the sky
Too empty to sing too loneseome to cry
Now if the ladies were blackbirds if the ladies were thrushes
I'd lie there for hours in the chilly cold marshes
If the ladies were squirrels with them high bushy tails
I'd fill up my shotgun with rock salt and nails
I'd fill up my shotgun with rock salt and nails