Stop
a while and listen to my story.
I've just come down from the hills.
I went there to find my childhood sweetheart,
midst the roses and the whippoorwill.
I returned to look for the old pine tree that haunted my memory so.
It was there,
she said,
she'd be waiting for me when we carved our hearts long ago.
But the old pine tree was gone,
still my love for her lingers on.
Oh, they cut down the old pine tree,
and they hauled it away to the mill,
to make a coffin of pine for that sweetheart of mine.
Oh, they cut down the old pine tree.
But she's not alone in her grave tonight,
for it's there my heart will always be.
Though we drifted apart,
still they cut down my heart when they cut down the old pine tree.
Oh, they cut down the old pine tree,
and they hauled it away to the mill,
to make a coffin of pine for that sweetheart of mine.
Oh, they cut down the old pine tree.
But she's not alone in her grave tonight,
for it's there my heart will always be.
Though we drifted apart,
still they cut down my heart when they cut down the old pine tree.