Tom Dooley
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
You left her by the roadside
Where you begged to be excused;
You left her by the roadside,
Then you hid her clothes and shoes.
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
You took her on the hillside
For to make her your wife;
You took her on the hillside,
And ther you took her life.
You dug the grave four feet long
And you dug it three feet deep;
You rolled the cold clay over her
And tromped it with your feet.
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
"Trouble, oh it's trouble
A-rollin' through my breast;
As long as I'm a-livin', boys,
They ain't a-gonna let me rest.
I know they're gonna hang me,
Tomorrow I'll be dead,
Though I never even harmed a hair
On poor little Laurie's head."
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
"In this world and one more
Then reckon where I'll be;
If is wasn't for Sheriff Grayson,
I'd be in Tennesee.
You can take down my old violin
And play it all you please.
For at this time tomorrow, boys,
Iit'll be of no use to me."
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
"At this time tomorrow
Where do you reckon I'll be?
Away down yonder in the holler
Hangin' on a white oak tree.
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
Tom Dooley
Baja la cabeza, Tom Dooley,
Baja la cabeza y llora;
Mataste a la pobre Laurie Foster,
Y sabes que estás destinado a morir.
La dejaste en la carretera
Donde pediste ser perdonado;
La dejaste en la carretera,
Luego escondiste su ropa y zapatos.
Baja la cabeza, Tom Dooley,
Baja la cabeza y llora;
Mataste a la pobre Laurie Foster,
Y sabes que estás destinado a morir.
La llevaste a la colina
Para hacerla tu esposa;
La llevaste a la colina,
Y allí le quitaste la vida.
Cavaste la tumba cuatro pies de largo
Y la cavaste tres pies de profundidad;
Rodaste la fría arcilla sobre ella
Y la pisoteaste con tus pies.
Baja la cabeza, Tom Dooley,
Baja la cabeza y llora;
Mataste a la pobre Laurie Foster,
Y sabes que estás destinado a morir.
"Problemas, oh son problemas
Rodando por mi pecho;
Mientras esté vivo, chicos,
No me dejarán descansar.
Sé que me van a colgar,
Mañana estaré muerto,
Aunque nunca lastimé ni un cabello
De la pobre Laurie."
Baja la cabeza, Tom Dooley,
Baja la cabeza y llora;
Mataste a la pobre Laurie Foster,
Y sabes que estás destinado a morir.
"En este mundo y uno más
Luego piensa dónde estaré;
Si no fuera por el Sheriff Grayson,
Estaría en Tennessee.
Puedes bajar mi viejo violín
Y tocarlo todo lo que quieras.
Porque en este momento mañana, chicos,
No me servirá de nada."
Baja la cabeza, Tom Dooley,
Baja la cabeza y llora;
Mataste a la pobre Laurie Foster,
Y sabes que estás destinado a morir.
"En este momento mañana
¿Dónde crees que estaré?
Allá abajo en el barranco
Colgado de un roble blanco.
Baja la cabeza, Tom Dooley,
Baja la cabeza y llora;
Mataste a la pobre Laurie Foster,
Y sabes que estás destinado a morir."