Sung by Mrs. Della Kerr
DeValls Bluff, Ark.
Nov. 13, 1953
Reel 172
Item 7
Down By The Weeping Willow
Down by the Weeping Willow,
Where the lovely violers grew,
Therelies my own sweet Nellie,
In a cold and silent tomb.
She died not brokenhearted,
NOR sickness caused her death,
But 'twas her jealous lover,
That took from her, her breath,
One night in last November,
When the moon was shining bright,
Out stepped a jealous lover,
Out in the pale moonlight.
Saying, "Nellie, my sweet Nellie,
Come let us take a walk,
Down by the weeping willow,
And of out wedding talk".
The night grew dark and dreary,
The woods grew dark and drear,
Says she, "I am afraid here,
And I must haste away".
Oh Nellie, my sweet Nellie,
From me you ne'er shall fly,
For here in these woods I have you,
And here you how must die.
Then on her knees a'bending,
A'pleading for her life,
When through her snow white bosom,
He pierced a glittering knife.
Oh Edgar, Edgar, darling,
This being my last breath,
I never have deceived you,
Not in the hour of death.
Bend closer, Edgar darling,
We'll say our last goodbyes,
Then like a weeping willow,
She bowed her head and died.
Coll. by
M.C. Parler