On Top Of Old Smoky - Mitch Miller

On top of Old Smokey,

All covered with snow,

I lost my true lover

From a-courtin' too slow,

For courtin’s a pleasure

And parting is grief,

But a false-hearted lover

Is worse than a thief.

A thief will just rob you

And take what you have,

But a false-hearted lover

Will lead you to the grave

And the grave will decay you,

And turn you to dust.

Not one boy in a hundred

A poor girl can trust.

He’ll hug you and kiss you,

And tell you more lies

Than the cross-ties on a railroad

Or stars in the skies.

So come, you young maidens,

And listen to me--

Never place your affection

On a green willow tree

For the leaves, they will wither,

And the roots, they will die

And you’ll all be forsaken,

And never know why.