Sally Jones | kellysongcollective

Sally Jones

Sally Jones, oh Sally Jones, you’ve gone away.

Under my skin, you’re in my bones, sweet Sally Jones.

Sally lived across the tracks when I was a child.

She was made of equal parts meek and wild.

And I fell in love with Sally though I was just a kid.

Loved the things Sally touched and everything she did.

Sally’s family moved from town and my little heart broke.

Neither of us waved goodbye and neither of us spoke.

Sally’s father took a job three hundred miles away.

I was cursed to cry by night and dream by day.

Sally came back to town and my poor heart leapt.

I was going to show the promise secret that I’d kept.

But she was meant for young Bill Craven. That Sunday they would wed.

I was going to go to see, but I got drunk instead.

Sally was a diamond in the rough hands of that man.

Bought a sawed-off shot one day to execute her plan.

Fired it in the dead of night that only my ears knew.

Sally should have been a bird before the sky was blue.

Sally stood in the defendant’s box beautiful and proud.

A guilty bystander I wept in a curious crowd.

Sally made no human sound. She shed no tears

when the judge sentenced her to fifteen years.

Day and night I thought of Sally in her prison cell.

Night and day I dreamed of our sweet wedding bell.

On the day of her release I waited there to say

I had waited but they said she left yesterday.