Poor Ellen Smith

Poor Ellen Smith, how she was found
Shot through the heart, lying cold on the ground

Her clothes were all scattered and thrown on the ground
Blood marks the spot where poor Ellen was found

They picked up her body and carried it away
And now she is sleeping in some lonesome old grave

They picked up their rifles and hunted me down
They found me a-loafing in Mount Airy town

I got a letter yesterday, I read it today
The flowers on her grave have all faded away

Some day I'll go home and say, when I go
On poor Ellen's grave pretty flowers I'll sow

I've been in this prison for twenty long years
Each night I see Ellen through my bitter tears

The warden just told me that soon I'll be free
To go to her grave 'neath that old willow tree

My days in this prison are ending at last
I'll never be free from the sins of my past