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Rock, Salt And Nails
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Joan Baez
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1
On the banks of the river, where the willows hang down,
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Where the wild birds all warble with a low moaning sound,
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Down in the hollow where the water runs cold,
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It's there I *have listened to the lies that you told.
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(*first)
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Now I lie on my bed and I see your sweet face.
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The past I remember, time cannot erase.
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(The) letters you wrote me were written in shame,
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And I know that your conscience still echos my *pain.
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(*name)
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Now the nights are so long, my sorrow runs deep.
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Nothing is worse than a night without sleep.
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I walk out alone, I look at the sky,
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Too *empty to sing, too **lonesome to cry.
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(*lonesome) (**empty)
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(Now) if the ladies were blackbirds and the ladies were thrushes,
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I'd lie there for hours in the chilly cold marshes.
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If the ladies were squirrels with (them) high bushy tails,
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I'd fill up my shotgun with rock salt and nails.
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