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.