Poor Ellen Smith - Fernando Goin
Poor Ellen Smith
How she was found
Shot through the heart lying
Cold on the ground
Her clothers were all scattered
And thrown on the ground
And blood marks the spot
Where poor Ellen was found
They picked up the body
And carried it away
And now she is sleeping
In some lonesome old grave
They picked up their rifles
And hunted me down
And found me a loafing
All around town
Look at front
I got a letter yesterday and
I read it today
The flowers on her grave
Have all faded away
I've been in this prison
For twenty long years
Each night I see Ellen
Through my bitter tears
The warden has told me that
Soon I'll be free
To go to her grave near
That old willow tree
Who had the heart
And
Who had the brain
To shoot my little darling
On that cold lonesome plain
I'm free from the walls
Of that prison at last
But I'll never be free
Of my sins from the past
