Up north where the cold wind blows
Where the cold rain turns to snow
Way back in the sticks, in the holler
Ain't no job to make a dollar
Mary was a godly woman
But daddy had a hole in his bottle
Left home when she was ten
Swear she'd never eat dust again
Willie was the son of a preacher
Made his fortune running corn liquor
Married Mary when she was twenty
Gave her two kids to call him daddy
But times were hard, dry land
And Willie's eyes were darker than the woodland
Way out in the sticks, in the holler
You held on to your gun and your hard-earned dollars
But Every night the blood was falling
Every night the sky was crying
Every night you could hear the lonesome wind blow
Every day she wished he'd pay
For every single time he laid
His hands on the one he kept away
They all knew what he was doing
Because Mary was there every Sunday morning
Long sleeves, black scarf
Scars on her face, scars on her heart
Willie had power over this town
Jobs for the men and money on the farms
So there wasn't a hint of whisper
When Mary broke down in front of the preacher
She knew she was there on her own
Deep down she knew it all along
Took a bottle and a sharp buck knife
Whiskey for courage, a blade for his life
She drank up and then she swore
She'd get him when he'd walk through the door
But at dawn she was still all alone
Old Willie never made it home
Every night the blood was falling
Every night the sky was crying
Every night you could hear the lonesome wind blow
Every day she wished he'd pay
For every single time he laid
His hands on the one he kept away
When she left that morning
Tears filled her eyes
As she read the letter
That was down on her porch side
Her hands were shaking
As she was reading
"You'll never have to worry ma'am
He won't get to hurt you again"
Sincerely Mrs. Brown,
-The one who shot your husband down"