On top of Old Smokey

On top of Old Smokey

All covered with snow

I lost my true lover

By a-sparkin' too slow.

Sparkin' is pleasure

And partin' is grief,

And a false-hearted lover

Is wuss than a thief.

A thief he will rob you,

Will take all you have;

But a false-hearted lover

Will send you to your grave.

The grave will decay you,

Will turn you to dust

There's not a girl in a hundred

A poor boy can trust.

"Go put up yer horses

And feed 'em some hay;

Come sit here beside me

As long as you stay."

"My horses ain't hungry,

They won't eat yer hay,

So fare well little darlin'

I'll feed on the way."