Sycamore Hollow

It was down by the forked stream
Out in Sycamore Holler
I wen't down in my best of dress
To take her from her father

With hair down to her waist
The color of strawberries
Down by the forked stream
By nightfall we would marry

I sure love the farmer's daughter
Back in Sycamore Holler

On a horse seventeen hands high
He rode in Sherman's army
To Atlanta town against her will
They took my woman from me

Well I grabbed my knife and both of my guns
And in a loud voice I did call her
Upon a lightning horse I swore once more
As I left Sycamore Holler

I will bring the farmer's daughter
Back to Sycamore Holler

It was down by the river's edge
To see the campfire flicker
Four dead men lay behind
As I leave that campsite with her

Now our children play in a forked stream
Out in Sycamore Holler
A boy like me a girl like her
We'll always be together

I sure love the farmer's daugther
Back in Sycamore Holler