Tom Dooley

Hang your head, Tom Dooley
 Hang your head and cry
 You killed little Laurie Foster
 And you know you're bound to die
 You left her by the roadside
 Where you begged to be excused
 You left her by the roadside
 Then you hid her clothes and shoes
 Hang your head, Tom Dooley
 Hang your head and cry
 You killed little Laurie Foster
 And you know you're bound to die
 You took her on the hillside
 For to make her your wife
 You took her on the hillside
 And there you took her life
 You dug the grave four feet long
 And you dug it three feet deep
 You rolled that cold clay over her
 And you tromped it with your feet
 Hang your head, Tom Dooley
 Hang your head and cry
 You killed little Laurie Foster
 And you know you're bound to die
 "Trouble, oh, it's trouble
 A-rollin' o'er my breast
 As long as I'm a-livin', boys
 They just won't let me rest
 I know they're goin' to hang me
 Tomorrow I'll be dead
 Though I never even harmed a hair
 On poor little Laurie's head"
 Hang your head, Tom Dooley
 Hang your head and cry
 You killed poor Laurie Foster
 And you know you're bound to die
 "In this world and one more
 Then reckon where I'll be
 If it wasn't for Sheriff Grayson
 I'd be in Tennessee
 "At this time tomorrow, boys
 Where do you reckon I'll be?"
 Way down yonder in the holler
 Hangin' on a white oak tree
 Hang your head, Tom Dooley
 Hang your head and cry
 You killed poor Laurie Foster
 And you know you're bound to die
 "Take down my old violin
 And play it all you please
 For at this time tomorrow, boys
 It'll be of no use to me"
 Hang your head, Tom Dooley
 Hang your head and cry
 You killed little Laurie Foster
 And you know you're bound to die