Текст песни Misc Traditional - Tom Dooley

Tom Dooley
Traditional

Hand me down my banjo,  I'll pick it on my knee.
This time tomorrow night it'll be no use to me.
I met her on the mountain, I swore she'd be my wife,
I met her on the mountain, and I 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,
Down in some lonesome valley hangin' from a white-oak tree.
I had my trial at Wilksboro', and what'd you reckon they done?
They bound me over to Statesville and that's where I'll be hung.

The limb bein' oak, boys, the rope bein' strong,
Bow down your head, Tom Dooley, you know you're gonna be hung.
Mammy, O Mammy, don't you weep or cry,
I've killed poor Laurie Foster and you know I'm bound to die.

Pappy, O Pappy, what shall I do?
I lost all my money and kille poor Laurie, too.
O what my Mammy told me, is about to come to pass,
Red whisky and pretty women, would be my ruin at last.