There is a Tavern in the Town.
Copyright, 1883, by Wm. F. Hills.
There is a tavern in the town, in the town,
And there my dear love sits him down, sits him down;
And drinks his wine 'mid laughter free,
And never, never thinks of me.
Fare thee well, for I must leave thee, do not let the parting grieve thee;
And remember that the best of friends must part, must part.
Adieu, adieu, kind friends, adieu, adieu, adieu,
I can no longer stay with you, with you;
I'll hang my harp on a weeping willow tree,
And may the world go well with thee.
He left me for a damsel dark, damsel dark,
Each Friday night they used to spark, used to spark;
And now my love, once true to me,
Takes that dark damsel on his knee.-Chorus.
Oh! dig my grave both wide and deep, wide and deep,
Put tombstones at my head and feet, head and feet;
And on my breast carve a turtle dove,
To signify I died of love.-Chorus