Rocks, Salt And Nails
A Waylon Jennings
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Lyrics
By the banks of the river
Where the willows grow cold
Wild birds warble
A strange-sounding song
By the banks of the river
Where the water's run cold
Was it there I first listened
To the lies that she told?
He lays there each night
All alone and he weeps
Nothing ain't worse
Than a night without sleep
The letters she wrote him
They were written in vain
But I know that her conscience
Still echoes my name
If the ladies were blackbirds
And the ladies were thrushes
I'd lay there for hours
In the cold rainy marshes
If the ladies were squirrels
Yeah, with a big bushy tail
I'd fill up my shotgun
With rock salt and nails
We'd fill up our shotguns
With rock salt and nails