Bury me beneath the willow
'Neath that weeping willow tree
When she comes she'll find me sleeping
Then perhaps she'll think of me
It's many a night while you're sleeping
Sleeping in your sleeping clothes
I'm a poor boy, broken hearted
Listenin' to the wind that blows
Bury me beneath the willow
'Neath that weeping willow tree
When she comes she'll find me sleeping
Then perhaps she'll think of me
Tomorrow was to be our wedding
God, oh Lord, where can she be
She has gone to find another
She no longer cares for me
Bury me beneath the willow
'Neath that weeping willow tree
When she comes she'll find me sleeping
Then perhaps she'll think of me
© WOODY GUTHRIE PUBLICATIONS INC;
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