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
I met her on the mountain,
there I took her life
Met her on the mountain,
stabbed her with my knife
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 |