Tom Dooley

Hang your head, Tom Dooley Hang your head and cry You killed little Laurie Foster And you know you're bound to die You left her by the roadside Where you begged to be excused You left her by the roadside Then you hid her clothes and shoes Hang your head, Tom Dooley Hang your head and cry You killed little Laurie Foster And you know you're bound to die You took her on the hillside For to make her your wife You took her on the hillside And there you took her life You dug the grave four feet long And you dug it three feet deep You rolled that cold clay over her And you tromped it with your feet Hang your head, Tom Dooley Hang your head and cry You killed little Laurie Foster And you know you're bound to die "Trouble, oh, it's trouble A-rollin' o'er my breast As long as I'm a-livin', boys They just won't let me rest I know they're goin' to hang me Tomorrow I'll be dead Though I never even harmed a hair On poor little Laurie's head" Hang your head, Tom Dooley Hang your head and cry You killed poor Laurie Foster And you know you're bound to die "In this world and one more Then reckon where I'll be If it wasn't for Sheriff Grayson I'd be in Tennessee "At this time tomorrow, boys Where do you reckon I'll be?" Way down yonder in the holler Hangin' on a white oak tree Hang your head, Tom Dooley Hang your head and cry You killed poor Laurie Foster And you know you're bound to die "Take down my old violin And play it all you please For at this time tomorrow, boys It'll be of no use to me" Hang your head, Tom Dooley Hang your head and cry You killed little Laurie Foster And you know you're bound to die