William Elliott Whitmore Follow

In a box made of pine lays the sweet love of mine
she's been gone for nearly a year
The river would overflow
if only I could trade a raindrop for every tear
It was the year of ought one and our life had begun
no perils could make us distraught
Together we stood through bad and through good
no hardships that couldn't be fought

She fell ill one dark winter's night
and before too long the passed
It would prove to be true my whole life through
that nothing good would last
It all ended that day when I saw her ride away
in the back of that long black hearse
I remember so well my personal hell
began on this here Earth
I've half the heart I used to have and half the will to go on
I've got half a mind to drink myself blind
now that my darlin' is gone

Now the winter's teeth are biting down
and it chills me to the bone
To think about that cold mattress
and sleeping all alone
So now I know what I must do
the path ahead of me is clear
I must join her now wherever she's at
'cause I ain't doin' no good here