St. John the Gambler

When she had twenty years, well she turned to her mother

Saying mother, I know that you'll grieve

But I've given my soul to st john the gambler

Tomorrow comes time to leave

For the hills cannot hold back my sorrow forever

And dead men lie deep 'round the door

The only salvation that's mine for the asking

So mother, think on me no more

And winter held high round the mountains' breast

And the cold of a thousand snows

Lay heaped upon the forest's 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 mother's tears

To a funeral drawn of calico

'neath the cross of twenty years

To a funeral drawn of calico

'neath the cross of twenty years