| I met a little girl in Knoxville
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| A town we all know well
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| And every Sunday evening
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| Out in her home I’d dwell
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| We went to take an evening walk
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| About a mile from town
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| I picked a stick up off the ground
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| And beat that fair girl down
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| She fell down on her bended knee, for mercy she did cry
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| Oh Willy dear, don’t kill me here, I’m unprepared to die
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| She never spoke another word, I only beat her more
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| Until the ground around us, with all her blood did pour
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| I took her by her golden curls and I drug her round and round
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| Throwing her into the river that flows through Knoxville town
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| Go down, go down you Knoxville girl with dark and rolling eye
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| Go down, go down you Knoxville girl, you can never be my bride
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| I headed back to Knoxville, got there about midnight
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| My mother she was worried and woke up in a fright
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| Saying, «dear son what have you done to bloody your clothes so?»
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| I told my anxious mother I was bleeding out my nose
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| I called for me a candle to light myself to bed
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| I called for me a handkerchief to bind my aching head
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| Rolled and tumbled the whole night through as troubles was for me
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| Like flames of hell around my bed and in my eyes could see
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| They carried me down to Knoxville and put me in a cell
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| My friends all tried to get me out but none could go my bail
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| I’m here to waste my life away down in this dirty old jail
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| Because I murdered that Knoxville girl, the girl I loved so well |