Poor Ellen Smith

"Poor Ellen Smith"Poor Ellen Smith, how was she foundShot through the heart lying cold on the groundHer body was mangled, and all cast aroundA blood marks the spot where poor Ellen was foundThey picked up her body, and carried it awayNow she's a-sleepin' in some lonesome graveWho had the heart, and who had the brainTo shoot my little darling on that cold lonesome plainThey picked up their rifles, and hunted us downThey found us a loafin' all around townThe judge my convict me, and God knows he canBut I know I died as an innocent manI've been in this prison for seven long yearsEach night I see Ellen through my bitter tearsI got a letter yesterday I read it todayThe flowers on her grave have all faded awayThe warden just told me that soon I'll be freeTo go to her grave 'neath that old willow treeI'm free from the walls of that prison, at lastBut I'll never be free from my sins of the pastPoor Ellen Smith, how was she foundShot through the heart lying cold on the ground