Tom Dooley (the classic American murder ballad, sung by Eddie Biggins)

Tom Dooley (Thomas Land) [chorus:] Hang your head, Tom Dooley, Hang your head and cry; You killed poor Laurie Foster, And you know you're bound to die. You left her by the roadside Where you begged to be excused; You left her by the roadside, Then you hid her clothes and shoes. [chorus:] You took her on the hillside For to make her your wife; You took her on the hillside, And there you took her life. You dug the grave four feet long And you dug it three feet deep; You rolled the cold clay over her And tromped it with your feet. [chorus:] "Trouble, oh it's trouble A-rollin' through my breast; As long as I'm a-livin', boys, They ain't a-gonna let me rest. I know they're gonna hang me, Tomorrow I'll be dead, Though I never even harmed a hair On poor little Laurie's head." [chorus:] "In this world and one more Then reckon where I'll be; If is wasn't for Sheriff Grayson, I'd be in Tennessee. You can take down my old violin And play it all you please. For at this time tomorrow, bo