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