Rock Salt and Nails

On the banks of the river,
where the willows hang down
And the wild birds all warble
with a low moaning sound
Down in the hollow,
Where the waters run cold,
It was there I first listened
To the lies that you told
Now I lay on my bed
And I see your sweet face.
The past I remeber,
Time cannot erase.
The letter you wrote me,
It was written in shame.
And I know that your conscience
Still echoes my name.
The nights are so long,
And sorrow runs deep.
And nothing is worse
Than a night with out sleep.
I’ll walk out alone
And look at the sky.
Too empty to sing,
Too lonesome to cry.
If the ladies were blackbirds
And the ladies were thrushes,
I’d lie there for hours
In the chilly, cold marshes.
If the ladies were squirrels
With a high bushy tail
I’d fill up my shotgun
With rock salt and nails.