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Poor Ellen Smith, how was she found Shot through the heart lying cold on the ground Her body was mangled, and all cast around A blood marks the spot where poor Ellen was found
They picked up her body, and carried it away Now she's a-sleepin' in some lonesome grave Who had the heart, and who had the brain To shoot my little darling on that cold lonesome plain
They picked up their rifles, and hunted us down They found us a loafin' all around town The judge my convict me, and God knows he can But I know I died as an innocent man
I've been in this prison for seven long years Each night I see Ellen through my bitter tears I got a letter yesterday I read it today The flowers on her grave have all faded away
The warden just told me that soon I'll be free To go to her grave 'neath that old willow tree I'm free from the walls of that prison, at last But I'll never be free from my sins of the past
Poor Ellen Smith, how was she found Shot through the heart lying cold on the ground
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