Poor Ellen Smith, how was she found   Shot through the heart lying cold on the ground   Her body was mangled, and all cast around   A blood marks the spot where poor Ellen was found      They picked up her body, and carried it away   Now she's a-sleepin' in some lonesome grave   Who had the heart, and who had the brain   To shoot my little darling on that cold lonesome plain      They picked up their rifles, and hunted us down   They found us a loafin' all around town   The judge my convict me, and God knows he can   But I know I died as an innocent man      I've been in this prison for seven long years   Each night I see Ellen through my bitter tears   I got a letter yesterday I read it today   The flowers on her grave have all faded away      The warden just told me that soon I'll be free   To go to her grave 'neath that old willow tree   I'm free from the walls of that prison, at last   But I'll never be free from my sins of the past      Poor Ellen Smith, how was she found   Shot through the heart lying cold on the ground