Poor Ellen Smith, how was she found Shot through the heart lying cold on the ground Her body was mangled, and all cast around And blood marks the spot where poor Ellen was found They picked up her body, and carried it away Now she's a-sleepin' in some lonesome ol' grave Who had the heart, and who had the brain To shoot my little darling on this cold lonesome plain They picked up their rifles, and hunted us down They found us a loafin' all around town The jury my convict me, and God knows they can But I know I died as an innocent man I've been in this prison for seven long years Each night I see Ellen through my bitter tears I got a letter yesterday I read it today The flowers on her grave have all faded away The warden has told me that soon I'll be free To go to her grave 'neath that old holler tree I'm free from the walls of this prison, at last But I'll never be free from my sins of the past Poor Ellen Smith, how was she found Shot through the heart lying cold on the ground