Letras
By the banks of the river
Where the waters run cold
And the wild birds warble
A strange—sounding soul
By the banks of the river
Where the willows grow
It was there I first listened
To the lies you told
Now I lay here each night
All alone and I weep
And nothing ain't worse
Than a night without sleep
Hey, the letters you wrote me
They were written in shame
But I know that your conscience
Still echoes my name
If the ladies were blackbirds
And the ladies were thrushes
I'd lay for hours
In them cold, rainy marshes
If the ladies were squirrels
With big bushy tails
I'd fill up my shotgun
With rocks, salt and nails
I'd fill up my shotgun
With rocks, salt and nails