On Top of Old Smoky

On top of old Smoky, all covered with snow,
I lost my true lover from courting too slow.

Now, courting is pleasure and parting is grief,
And a false-hearted lover is worse than a thief.

For a thief will just rob you and take what you have,
But a false-hearted lover will lead you to the grave.

And 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 cross ties on a railroad or stars in the skies.

So, come all you young maidens and listen to me,
Never place your affection on a green willow tree.

For the leaves they will whither, and the roots they will die,
You'll all be forsaken and never know why.