Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
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Hang your head and cry;
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You killed poor Laurie Foster,
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And you know you're bound to die.
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You left her by the roadside
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Where you begged to be excused;
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You left her by the roadside,
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Then you hid her clothes and shoes.
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Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
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Hang your head and cry;
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You killed poor Laurie Foster,
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And you know you're bound to die.
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You took her on the hillside
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For to make her your wife;
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You took her on the hillside,
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And ther you took her life.
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You dug the grave four feet long
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And you dug it three feet deep;
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You rolled the cold clay over her
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And tromped it with your feet.
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Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
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Hang your head and cry;
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You killed poor Laurie Foster,
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And you know you're bound to die.
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"Trouble, oh it's trouble
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A-rollin' through my breast;
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As long as I'm a-livin', boys,
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They ain't a-gonna let me rest.
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I know they're gonna hang me,
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Tomorrow I'll be dead,
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Though I never even harmed a hair
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On poor little Laurie's head."
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Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
|
Hang your head and cry;
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You killed poor Laurie Foster,
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And you know you're bound to die.
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"In this world and one more
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Then reckon where I'll be;
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If is wasn't for Sheriff Grayson,
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I'd be in Tennesee.
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You can take down my old violin
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And play it all you please.
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For at this time tomorrow, boys,
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Iit'll be of no use to me."
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Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
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Hang your head and cry;
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You killed poor Laurie Foster,
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And you know you're bound to die.
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"At this time tomorrow
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Where do you reckon I'll be?
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Away down yonder in the holler
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Hangin' on a white oak tree.
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Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
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Hang your head and cry;
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You killed poor Laurie Foster,
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And you know you're bound to die.
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-----------------
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Tom Dooley
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Doc Watson |