When she had 20 years, 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 it 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

Winter howled high round the mountains breast
And the cold of a thousand snows
Lay heaped upon the forest sleep
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 her feet
She followed her frozen breath
In search of a certain St. John the Gambler
Stumbling to her death

She heard his laughter ride down from the mountains
And danced with her mother's tears
To a funeral drone of calico
'Neath the cross to twenty years
To a funeral drone of calico
'Neath the cross to twenty years