Old Smokey کے بول

On top of Old Smokey, All covered with snow, I lost my true lover, For courting too slow. For courting's a pleasure, But parting is grief, And a false-hearted lover, Is worse than a thief. A thief will just rob you, And take what you have, But a false-hearted lover, Will lead you to your grave. The grave will decay you, And turn you to dust, Not one boy in a hundred A poor girl can trust. They'll hug you and kiss you, And tell you more lies, Than crossties on a railroad, Or stars in the sky. So come ye young maidens, And listen to me, Never place your affection In a green willow tree. For the leaves they will wither, The roots they will die, And you'll be forsaken, And never know why.