Lyrics:

Well, marry me

To a rope and a tree

What that ol' judge called first degree


And all the folks around town

Swore to lay me

In the ground

They found out I put that poor boy down


You see I

Did not much care

For the way

That he'd sit and glare

So I closed

His eyes for good

With a bar-room chair


So, gonna lay my poor bones

Past Appalachian stones

Far beneath that cold ground all alone


Oh but if you're asking me

Where I would rather be


It was worth it

To see that boy

Cut from the knees