On tHenry Cavill Top of Old Smoky - The Weavers

On top of old smokey

All covered with snow

I lost my true lover

From courting too slow

For courting’s a pleasure

And parting’s a grief

And a false hearted lover

Is worse than a thief

For a thief will just rob you

And take all you save

But a false hearted lover

Will lead you to the grave

And the grave will decay

You and turn you to dust

Not one girl in fifty

A poor boy can trust

They’ll hug you and kiss you

And tell you more lies

Than cross lines on a railroad

Or stars in the skies

So come all your maidens

And listen to me

Never place your affections

On a green willow tree

For the leaves they will wither

And the roots they will die

You’ll all be forsaken

And never know why