On top of old Smoky, all covered with snow,
I lost my true lover, By court-n to slow.

Well, courtin's a pleasure, And parting is grief.
But a false-hearted lover, Is worse than a thief.

A thief he will rob you, And take all you have,
But a false-hearted lover, Will send you to your grave.

And the grave will decay you, And turn you to dust.
And where is the young man, A poor girl can trust.