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Doc Watson - Tom Dooley Ukulele

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Tom Dooley Ukulele

(ver. 1) Click to play this song!
Doc Watson
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                				Tom Dooley         (Doc Watson version)

    G                   C       C                  G
**  Hang your head, Tom Dooley,	Hang your head and cry;
    D                      G                    C                    G
**  You killed poor Laurie Foster,	And you know you're bound to die.

G                   C                   C                      G
You left her by the roadside		Where you begged to be excused;
D                    G                   C                   G	
You left her by the roadside,	Then you hid her clothes and shoes.	

G                   C                   C                    G
You took her on the hillside		For to make her your wife;
D                   G                C                 G
You took her on the hillside,	And there you took her life.
G                  C                    C                         G
You dug the grave four feet long	And you dug it three feet deep;
D                        G              C                        G
You rolled the cold clay over her	And tromped it with your feet.

G                 C                     C                    G
"Trouble, oh it's trouble		A-rollin' through my breast;
D                G                   C                    G
As long as I'm a-livin', boys,	They ain't a-gonna let me rest.
G                    C           C               G
I know they're gonna hang me,	Tomorrow I'll be dead,
D                    G             C                       G
Though I never even harmed a hair  On poor little Laurie's head."	

G                  C            C                      G
"In this world and one more	Then reckon where I'll be;
D                        G               C             G
If is wasn't for Sheriff Grayson,	I'd be in Tennesee.
G                      C         C                  G
You can take down my old violin	And play it all you please.
D                  G                          C               G
For at this time tomorrow, boys,	It'll be of no use to me."

G                C               C                       G
"At this time to-morrow		Where do you reckon I'll be?
D                       G        C                     G
Away down yonder in the holler	Hangin' on a white oak tree.		


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