Every Night When the Sun goes In
Every night when the sun goes in (3 times)
I hang down my head and mournful cry.
True love, don't weep, true love, don't mourn (3 times)
True love, don't weep nor mourn for me,
I'm going away to Marble town.
I wish to the Lord that train wwould come (3 times)
To take me back where I come from.
True love, don't weep, etc.
It's once my apron hung down low (3 times)
He'd follow me through both sleet snd snow.
True love, don't weep, etc.
It's now my apron's to my chin (3 times)
He'll face my door and won't come in.
True love, don't weep, etc.
I wish to the Lord my babe was born,
A-sitting upon his pappy's knee,
And me, poor girl, was dead and gone,
And the green grass growing over me.
True love, don't weep, etc.
from English Folk Songs in the Appalachian Mountains, Sharp
Collected from Mrs. Effie Mitchell, Burnsville, NC 1918
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Every Night When the Sun goes In
Every night when the sun goes in (3 times)
I hang down my head and mournful cry.
True love, don't weep, true love, don't mourn (3 times)
True love, don't weep nor mourn for me,
I'm going away to Marble town.
I wish to the Lord that train wwould come (3 times)
To take me back where I come from.
True love, don't weep, etc.
It's once my apron hung down low (3 times)
He'd follow me through both sleet snd snow.
True love, don't weep, etc.
It's now my apron's to my chin (3 times)
He'll face my door and won't come in.
True love, don't weep, etc.
I wish to the Lord my babe was born,
A-sitting upon his pappy's knee,
And me, poor girl, was dead and gone,
And the green grass growing over me.
True love, don't weep, etc.
from English Folk Songs in the Appalachian Mountains, Sharp
Collected from Mrs. Effie Mitchell, Burnsville, NC 1918
Every night when the sun goes in (3 times)
I hang down my head and mournful cry.
True love, don't weep, true love, don't mourn (3 times)
True love, don't weep nor mourn for me,
I'm going away to Marble town.
I wish to the Lord that train wwould come (3 times)
To take me back where I come from.
True love, don't weep, etc.
It's once my apron hung down low (3 times)
He'd follow me through both sleet snd snow.
True love, don't weep, etc.
It's now my apron's to my chin (3 times)
He'll face my door and won't come in.
True love, don't weep, etc.
I wish to the Lord my babe was born,
A-sitting upon his pappy's knee,
And me, poor girl, was dead and gone,
And the green grass growing over me.
True love, don't weep, etc.
from English Folk Songs in the Appalachian Mountains, Sharp
Collected from Mrs. Effie Mitchell, Burnsville, NC 1918