[1] Hang your head Tom [4] Dooley hang your head and [1] cry
You [5] killed poor Laurie [1] Foster and you [4] know you're bound to [1] 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

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

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

In this world and one more then reckon where I'll be
If it 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

At this time tomorrow where do you reckon I'll be
Away down yonder in the holler hangin' on a white oak tree