| In the beautiful hills in the mists of Roane County
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| There’s where I have roamed for many long years
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| There’s where my heart’s been tendin most ever
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| There’s where the first step of misfortune I made
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| It’s about thirty years when I courted and married
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| Armanda Gilbraith I’d soon call my wife
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| My brother he stabbed me for some unknown reason
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| Just three month’s later I’d taken Tom’s life
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| I was captured and tried in the village of Kingston
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| Not a man in that county would speak one kind word
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| When the jury came in with the verdict next mornin'
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| A lifetime in prison was the words that I heard
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| When the train pulled out poor Mother stood weepin'
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| And sister she sat all alone with a sigh
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| And the last words I heard was «Willy God bless you»
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| Was «Willy God bless you God bless you goodbye»
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| In the scorching hot sand of the foundry I’m workin'
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| Toiling and working my poor life away
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| They’ll measure my grave on the banks of old Cumberland
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| Just as soon as I finish the rest of my days
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| Poort Martha was grave, but Corey was better
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| There’s better and worse, although you may see
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| Boys when you write home from this prison in Nashville
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| Place one of my songs in your letter for me |