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
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
Credits
Writer(s): Julie Anne Evans, Alan Lomax, John Richard Lomax, Frank Warner
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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