Tom Dooley

Hang your head, Tom Dooley

Hang your head and cry

Killed poor Laura Foster

And you know you're bound to die

Took her on the hillside

As she begged

Took her on the hillside

And you hid her clothes and shoes

Dug a grave four foot wide

And you dug it three feet deep

Rolled the cold clay over her

And you tromped it with your feet

Hang your head, Tom Dooley

Hang your head and cry

Killed poor Laura Foster

Now you know you're bound to die (whoo)

Took her on the hillside

And you went there with your knife

Took her on the hillside

And you took her life

Hang your head, Tom Dooley

Hang your head and cry

Killed poor Laura Foster

Now you know you're bound to die

Hang your head, Tom Dooley

Hang your head and cry

Killed poor Laura Foster

And you know you're bound to die

This time tomorrow morning

Where do you reckon I'll be?

Down in some lonesome valley

Just a-swinging from a white oak tree

Put down my old banjo

And I've played all my tunes

This time tomorrow morning

It'll be no use to me

Hang your head, Tom Dooley

Hang your head and cry

Killed poor Laura Foster

Now you know you're bound to die

Hang your head, Tom Dooley

Hang your head and cry

Killed poor Laura Foster

Now you know you're bound to die

Hang your head, Tom Dooley

Hang your head and cry

Killed poor Laura Foster

Now you know you're bound to die