On the banks of the river Where the willows hang down The wild birds they warble With a low moaning sound Down in the hollow Where the waters runs cold It was there I first listened To the lies that you told Now I lie on my back And I see your sweet face A past I remember Time cannot erase The letter you wrote me It was written in shame And know that your conscience still echoes my name Now the nights are so long, Lord sorrow runs deep And nothing is worse than a night without 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 squirrel's with high bushy tails I'd fill up my shotgun with rock salt and nails I'd fill up my shotgun with rock salt and nails