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On Top Of Old Smokey

A man loses his bride-to-be because he waits too long to pop the question.

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On top of Old Smokey, all covered with snow.
I lost my true lover for courting too slow.

For courting's a pleasure and parting's a grief,
And a false hearted lover is worse than a thief.

For a thief will just rob you and take all you save,
But a false hearted lover will lead you to the grave.

And the grave will decay you and turn you to dust,
Not one girl in a hundred a poor boy can trust.

They'll hug you and kiss you and tell you more lies,
Than cross lines on a railroad or stars in the skies.

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

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