Every night when the sun goes in
I hang down my head and mournful cry.
True love, don’t weep, true love, don’t mourn,
True love, don’t weep, or mourn for me,
I’m going away to Marble town.
‘Twas once my apron but it hung down low,
‘Twas once my apron it hung down low,
You followed me through both rain and snow.
But now my apron, it’s to my chin,
It’s now my apron, it’s to my chin,
You pass my door but you don’t come in.
I wish to the Lord that my babe was born,
And sitting on his daddy’s knee,
And me, poor girl, was dead and gone,
And the green grass is growing all over me.
Every night when the sun goes in
I hang down my head and mournful cry.