Ellen Smith Flatt & Scruggs

Poor Ellen Smith
Lord and how she was found
She was shot through the heart
Lying cold on the ground
Her clothes were all ragged
And her curls on the ground
And the blood marked the spot
Where poor Ellen was found

They picked up her body
And off they did go
To that lonesome ole graveyard
I'll see her no more
Well they took up their rifles
And hunted me down
They found me a loafing
Around through the town

I got a letter yesterday
I rеad it today
Said the flowers on her gravе
Had all faded away
I'm goin' back home
Lord I'll stay when I go
On poor Ellen's grave
Pretty flowers I will sow