On top of Old Smokey,
    all covered with snow,
I lost my true lover,
    from courting too slow.
Now courting is pleasure,
    and parting is grief,
And a false-hearted lover,
    is worse than a thief.
 
Say 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.
 
They'll hug you and kiss you,
    and tell you more lies,
Than the cross-ties on the railroad,
    or the stars in the skies.
So come all 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,
You'll all be forsaken
    and never know why.
On top of Old Smokey,
    all covered with snow,
I lost my true lover,
    from courting so slow.