Oh she's done and gone away
She kicked the bucket yesterday
My crossed gal that lived upon the hill
She took strychnine and died
And I hope she's satisfied
She done the whole darn thing against my will
She said goodbye to me as she sat upon my knee
She said she'd meet me on the Golden Shore
I took it as a joke, I didn't think she'd ever croak
She'd never died so suddenly before
We suspected her demise by the color of her eyes
Our efforts to revive her were in vain
She looked at me and sighed, then turned up her nose and died
Raised up and smiled and sneezed died again
Now that she has gone to rest I'll fulfill her last request
I'll plant a bunch of onions on her grave
So that when I'm passing by I can pucker up and cry
Cause the dog-gone things just simply make me rave
