God that takes me right back.

Tom Dooley killed his girlfriend and was hung for it. She was a slut
and asking for it. It seems Harriet Harmanhater's not doing anything
new.

Waterloo, by StoneWall Jackson. (My mother had it on an album called
Hits of the 50s and 60s. It had Que Sera Sera, The twelfth of never, A
white sports coat etc, and was the first album I memorised completely.
I'm not sure when it came out, but I couldn't have been more than five
or six.

"Now a fella who's darling proved untrue took her life but he lost his
too;
now he swings where the little birdie sings and that's where Tom Dooley

met his Waterloo. Waterloo! Waterloo! Where will you meet your
waterloo?"



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