Well, marry me To a rope and a tree What that ol' judge called first degree And all the folks around town Swore to lay me In the ground They found out I put that poor boy down You see I Did not much care For the way That he'd sit and glare So I closed His eyes for good With a bar-room chair So, gonna lay my poor bones Past Appalachian stones Far beneath that cold ground all alone Oh but if you're asking me Where I would rather be It was worth it To see that boy Cut from the knees