When she had twenty years she turned to her mother
Saying mother, I know that youll grieve
But Ive given my soul to st john the gambler [bad word] time leave
For the hills cannot hold back my sorrow forever
And dead men lay deep round the door
The only salvation thats mine for the asking
So mother, think on me no more
Winter held high round the mountains breast
And the cold of a thousand snows
Lay heaped upon the forests leaf
But she dressed in calico
For a gambler likes his women fancy
Fancy she would be
And the fire of her longing would keep way the cold
And her dress was a sight to see
But the road was long beneath the feet
She followed her frozen breath
In search of a certain st john the gambler
Stumbling to her death
She heard his laughter right down from the mountains
And danced with her mothers tears
To a funeral drawn a calico
neath the cross of twenty years
To a funeral drawn a calico
neath the cross of twenty years