Rock, Salt and Nails

By the banks of the river Where the willows hang down And the wild birds all warble With their high, lonesome sound Down in some hollow Where the waters run cold It was there I first listened To the lies that you told. If the young men were blackbirds The young men were thrushes I would lay by the hours In the cold rainy marshes If the young men were squirrels With high bushy tails I'd fill up my shotgun With rock salt and nails. Now I lie in my bed And I see your sweet face The past I remember time cannot erase The letters you wrote me Were written in shame And I know that your conscience Echoes my name. Lord I lie here each night All alone and I weep Nothing ain't worse Than a night without sleep I walk out alone under the sky Too empty to sing too lonesome to cry If the ladies were blackbirds And the young men were thrushes I'd lie there for hours In the cold, rainy marshes If the ladies were squirrels With high bushy tails I'd fill up my shotgun With rock salt and nails I'd fill up my shotgun With rock salt and nails