Hang your head, Tom Dooley
Hold your head and cry
You killed poor Laura Foster
And now you're bound to die
You took her on the hillside, as God almighty knows
You took her on the hillside and there you took her clothes
You took her by the roadside where you begged to be excused
You took her by the roadside there you took her shoes
Hang your head, Tom Dooley
Hold your head and cry
You killed poor Laura Foster
And now you're bound to die
You took her on that hillside for to make her your wife
You took her on the hillside there you took her life
You dug a grave four foot long, you dug it three foot deep
And throwed the cold clay on her face and stamped it with your feet
Hang your head, Tom Dooley
Hold your head and cry
You killed poor Laura Foster
And now you're bound to die
Take down my old violin and play it all you please
Well this time tomorrow, it'll be no use to me
This world and then one more where do you reckon I'd be
If it hadn't been for Grayson, I'd a-been in Tennessee
So hang your head, Tom Dooley
Hold your head and cry
You killed poor Laura Foster
And now you're bound to die
