Tom Dooley - Bobby Bare

The song about a mystic relation

A beautiful woman named Laurie

and a condemned man by the name of Tom Dooley

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley

Hang down your head and cry

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley

Poor boy, you’re bound to die.

Met her on the mountains

There I took her life

Met her on the mountains

Stabbed her with my knife

Took her on the hillside

As God almighty knows

Took her on the hillside

That’s where I hid her clothes

Why don’t you hang down your head, Tom Dooley

Hang down your head and cry

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley

Poor boy, you’re bound to die.

I dug a grave five feet long

I dug it 3 feet deep

Rolled the cold clay over her

And stumped it with your feet.

Baby this time tomorrow

Reckon where I’ll be

If it had not been for Grace

I’da been here in Tennessee

You ought to hang down your head, Tom Dooley

Hang down your head and cry

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley

Poor boy, you’re bound to die.

This time tomorrow

Reckon where I’ll be

Down in some lonesome valley

Hanging from a white oak tree, yea

But if Tom Dooley was hung for the murder of Laurie Foster

Then we’re scouting North Carolina at sunrise

23rd, 1868, have a nice day Tom

Oh you should hang down your head, Tom Dooley

Hang down your head and cry

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley

Poor boy, you’re bound to die.