Poor Ellen Smith, how was she found
Shot through the heart lying cold on the ground
Her body was mangled, and all cast around
And 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 ol' grave
Who had the heart, and who had the brain
To shoot my little darling on this cold lonesome plain
They picked up their rifles, and hunted us down
They found us a loafin' all around town
The jury my convict me, and God knows they 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 has told me that soon I'll be free
To go to her grave 'neath that old holler tree
I'm free from the walls of this 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
