On top of old smokey, all covered with snow,
I lost my true lover by courting too slow.
Now courting's a pleasure, and parting is grief,
But a falsehearted lover is worse than a thief.
A thief he will rob you, and take all you have
But a falsehearted lover will lead you to the grave.
The grave will decay you, and turn you to dust
There ain't one boy in a million, A poor girl can trust.
They'll hug you and kiss you, and tell you more lies
Than the cross-ties on a railroad, or the stars in the skies.
I'll go back to ol' smokey, Old smokey so high
Where the birds and the turtle doves can hear my sad cry.
