On Top Of Old Smokey (from album 'Midnight Special', 1962) Songtext
von Harry Belafonte

On top of old Smokey
All covered with snow
I lost my true lover
For a courting to slow

Yes courting′s a pleasure
And parting is grief
And a false hearted lover
Is worse than a thief

She'll kiss you, she′ll hug you
And tell you more lies
Than the cross ties on a railroad
Or the stars in the sky

Let me tell you 'bout my baby
She's like bad brandy wine
The first time I kissed her
She drove me out my mind


She′s a Baltimore special
Got a fine brown frame
Whеn you see her in motion
Evil woman is her name

Did I tеll you ′bout the Eastman
Lord what a shame
He run off with my baby
And scandalized my name
Well I went up on a mountain top
To call my baby back
She was gone with that Eastman
Down that lonesome railroad track

If I ever see that Eastman
I'll shoot him with my gun
I′ll cut him with my long Jones
And dare that pimp to run

Little Liza, little Liza
I couldn't sleep last night
Come on back home baby
Everything will be all right


Let me tell you, let me tell you
I don′t care what you say
If my woman ever comes back
I'll give my life away

If you ever see a dark cloud
A-rollin′ in the sky
It's my woman gone to heaven
With a tear drop in her eye

On top of old Smokey
All covered with snow
I lost my true lover
For a-courting to slow