By the banks of
the river Where the willows grow old And
the wild birds warble the strange sounding
song
By the banks of the river Where the
waters run cold Well that's where I first
listened to the lies she told
Now I lay here each night All alone
and I weep And nothing ain't worse
than a night without sleep
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 the cold rainy marshes
If the ladies were squirrels with
a big bushy tails I'd fill up my shotgun
with a rock salt and nails
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