Tom Dooley

I met her on the mountain, there I took her life
Met her on the mountain, stabbed her with my knife
 
   Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
   Hang down your head and cry
   Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
   Poor boy, you’re bound to die
 
This time tomorrow, reckon where I’ll be
Hadn’t-a been for Grayson, I’d-a been in Tennessee (well now, boy)
 
This time tomorrow, reckon where I’ll be
Down in some lonesome valley, hangin’ from a white oak tree