Classic Poem

Way up on old Smoky, all covered with snow,
I lost my true lover by sparking too slow.
Now sparking is pleasure, parting is grief,
but a false-hearted lover is worse than a thief.

2

A thief he will rob you, will take what you have,
But a false-hearted lover will take you to your grave.
The grave will decay you, will turn you to dust,
There is not one girl out of a hundred a poor boy can trust.

3

They'll hug you and kiss you and tell you more lies
Than the cross-ties on the railroad or the stars in the skies.
They will tell you they love you, to give your heart ease,
And as soon as you back up on them, they'll court who they please.

4

Way up on old Smoky, all covered with snow,
I lost my true lover by sparking too slow.
Bury me on old Smoky, old Smoky so high,
Where the wild birds in heaven can hear my sad cry.