On the banks of the river,
Where the willow hangs down
On the wild washing waters,
With that low mourning sound.
Down in the hollow
Where the water runs cold,
It was there I first listened
To the lies that you told.

Now I lie on my bed,
And I see your sweet face.
The past I remember;
Time can't erase.
The letter you wrote me
Was written in shame.
And I know that your conscience
Still echoes my name.

Now the nights are so alone
And my sorrow runs deep.
And nothing is worth for you and me,
One more night without sleep.
I woke up alone;
I take a look at my sky.
Too empty to sing,
Too lonely to cry.

If you ladies were blackbirds
And you ladies were thrushes,
I'd lie there for hours
In them cold chilly marshes.
But if ladies were squirrels,
With them high bushy tails;
I'd fill up my shotgun
With rock, salt and nails.

If you ladies were squirrels,
With them high bushy tails;
I would load up my shotgun
With rock, salt and nails.
If you ladies were squirrels,
With high bushy tails;
I fill up my shotgun
With rock, salt and nails.

I'd fill up my shotgun
With rock, salt and nails.
Fill up my shotgun
With rock, salt and nails...