By the banks of the river, where the willows hang down And the wild birds they wobble with the low moaning sound Way down in the hollow, where the river runs cold It was there I first listened to the lies that you told
By the banks of the river, where the willows hang down And the wild birds they wobble with the low moaning sound Way down in the hollow, where the river runs cold It was there I first listened to the lies that you told