Old Smokey

On top of Old Smokey,

All covered with snow,

I lost my true lover,

For courting too slow.

For courting's a pleasure,

But parting is grief,

And a false-hearted lover,

Is worse than a thief.

A thief will just rob you,

And take what you have,

But a false-hearted lover,

Will lead you to your grave.

The grave will decay you,

And turn you to dust,

Not one boy in a hundred

A poor girl can trust.

They'll hug you and kiss you,

And tell you more lies,

Than crossties on a railroad,

Or stars in the sky.

So come ye young maidens,

And listen to me,

Never place your affection

In a green willow tree.

For the leaves they will wither,

The roots they will die,

And you'll be forsaken,

And never know why.