On the banks of the river
Where the willows hang down
The wild birds they warble
With a low moaning sound
Down in the hollow
Where the waters runs cold
It was there I first listened
To the lies that you told
Now I lie on my back
And I see your sweet face
A past I remember
Time cannot erase
The letter you wrote me
It was written in shame
And know that your conscience still echoes my name
Now the nights are so long, Lord sorrow runs deep
And nothing is worse than a night without sleep
I'll walk out alone and look at the sky
Too empty to sing, too lonesome to cry
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 squirrel's with high bushy tails
I'd fill up my shotgun with rock salt and nails
I'd fill up my shotgun with rock salt and nails
