Rock Salt And Nails

On the banks of the river, where the willow hangs down,

Wild birds all warble with a low moaning 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 cannot erase.

And the letter you wrote me it was written in shame,

And I know that your conscience still echos 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

Well if the ladies was blackbirds and the ladies was thrushes,

I'd lie there for hours in the cold chilly marshes.

If the ladies was squirrels with them high bushy tails,

I'd fill up my shotgun with rock salt and nails.