On Top of Old Smokey

On top of Old Smokey,
All covered with snow,
I lost my true lover,
For courting too slow.

For courting’s a pleasure,
But parting is grief,
And a false-hearted lover,
Is worse than a thief.

A thief will just rob you,
Of all that you save,
But a false-hearted lover,
Will lead to your grave.

A slightly more risqué version goes:

On top of old Sophie
All covered in sweat
I’ve used 14 rubbers
She hasn’t come yet.