On top of Old Smoky, 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.