Rock, Salt and Nails

On the banks of the river, where the willows hang down
 Where the wild birds all warble with a low moaning sound
 Down in the hollow where the water runs cold
 It's there I have listened to the lies that you told
 Now I lie on my bed and I see your sweet face
 The past I remember, time cannot erase
 The letters you wrote me were written in shame
 And I know that your conscience still echos my pain
 Now the nights are so long, my sorrow runs deep
 Nothing is worse than a night without sleep
 I walk out alone, I look at the sky
 Too empty to sing, too lonesome to cry
 Now 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 squirrels with them high bushy tails
 I'd fill up my shotgun with rock, salt and nails