HANG DOWN YOUR HEAD, 
TOM  DOOLEY  

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley, 
Hang down your head and cry. 
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley, 
Poor boy, you're bound to die. 

Met her on the mountain, 
 Stabbed her with my knife 
Met her on the mountain, 
Stabbed her with my knife. 

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley, 
Hang down your head and cry. 
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley, 
  Poor boy, you're bound to die. 
 
This time tomorrow   
Reckon where I'll be 
Down in some lonesome valley 
Hangin' from a white oak tree 

 (WE ARE THE) 
 BACK FENCE CHOIR
 
  We gather in the alley,
  Under the midnight sky.
  We gather in the alley;
  You'll hear the reason why.

  We are the Back Fence Choir!
  Our leader is the moon;
  Lifting our voices higher,
  Till we are all in tune.

  We're here for choir practice
  Singin' it loud and strong,
  And the essential fact is:
  We practice all night long!
 
  Solo, duet and trio,  
  then a quartet (ooh, ooh)--
  We do it all con brio,
  and con amore, too.  

  [ etc. ] 

  Lyrics above copyright 2003 Brad Burg