Tom Dooley

Hang your head, Tom Dooley 
Hang your head and cry 
You killed poor 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 poor 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 the cold clay over her 
And tromped it with your feet 
 
Hang your head, Tom Dooley 
Hang your head and cry 
You killed poor Laurie Foster 
And you know you're bound to die 
 
"Trouble, oh it's trouble 
A-rollin' through my breast 
As long as I'm a-livin', boys 
They ain't a-gonna let me rest 
 
I know they're gonna 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 is wasn't for Sheriff Grayson 
I'd be in Tennessee 
 
You can 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 poor Laurie Foster 
And you know you're bound to die 
 
"At this time tomorrow 
Where do you reckon I'll be? 
Away 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