Rock, Salt And Nails

On the banks of the river, where the willows hang down

Where the wild birds all warble with a low moaning sound

Down in the hollow where the water runs cold

It's there I have 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 letters you wrote me were written in shame

And I know that your conscience still echos my pain.

Now the nights are so long, my sorrow runs deep

Nothing is worse than a night without sleep

I walk out alone, I look at the sky

Too empty to sing, too lonesome to cry.

Now if the ladies were blackbirds and 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.