On top of Old Smokey
All covered with snow
I lost my true lover
By a-sparkin' too slow.

Sparkin' is pleasure
And partin' is grief,
And a false-hearted lover
Is wuss than a thief.

A thief he will rob you,
Will take all you have;
But a false-hearted lover
Will send you to your grave.

The grave will decay you,
Will turn you to dust
There's not a girl in a hundred
A poor boy can trust.

"Go put up yer horses
And feed 'em some hay;
Come sit here beside me
As long as you stay."

"My horses ain't hungry,
They won't eat yer hay,
So fare well little darlin'
I'll feed on the way."