Joan Baez - Rock, Salt and Nails

On the banks of the river,
Where the willows hang down,
Where the wild birds all warble
With a low moaning sound,
Down in the hollow
Where the water runs cold,
It's there I first listened
To the lies that you told.

Now I lie on my bed
And I see your sweet face.
The past I remember,
Time cannot erase.
The letters you wrote me
Were written in shame,
And I know that your conscience
Still echos my name.

All the nights are so long,
My sorrow runs deep.
And nothing is worse
Than a night without sleep.
I walk out alone,
I look at the sky,
Too lonesome to sing,
Too empty to cry.

If the ladies were blackbirds
And the ladies were thrushes,
I'd lie there for hours
In the chilly cold marshes.
If the ladies were squirrels
With high bushy tails,
I'd fill up my shotgun
With rock salt and nails.