|
The village square stands quiet |
|
The curfew still enforced |
|
The streets are even clear of dogs and whores |
|
Like some evil bird-of-prey |
|
The scaffold spreads its wings |
|
The people build their fires and bolt their doors |
|
The mayor is giving dinner to the officers' wives |
|
His eldest son is learning how to fawn |
|
The barrick block is hushed and tense |
|
The soldiers drawing lots |
|
Who will be the hangman in the dawn? |
|
The lot falls on a young man |
|
Who has served for but a year |
|
His home is in the village close nearby |
|
He shivers at the thought of what |
|
He's forced to do next day |
|
He wonders who it is who has to die? |
|
And the full moon casts a cold light |
|
On the gloomy prison walls |
|
The papist walks his cell |
|
He cannot sleep |
|
He hears the waiting gallows creaking |
|
Just beyond that door |
|
He prays for he has no more tears to weep |
|
The day begins to break |
|
A muffled drums begins to sound |
|
A crowd begins to gather in the square |
|
The presence of the hangman |
|
In his terrifying mask |
|
Weighs heavy on the minds of all those there |
|
The colonel reads the sentence |
|
Which the papist knows by heart: |
|
He has failed to show alliegence to the king |
|
His crime is thus with God himself |
|
And in his name he must hang |
|
The papist, head held high |
|
Says not a thing |
|
The jailer binds his hands |
|
And puts his blindfold to his eyes |
|
He leads him through the door before the crowd |
|
The hangman sees his victim |
|
And the blood drains from his face: |
|
He sees his younger brother standing proud |
|
The hangman tries to protest |
|
But is ordered to proceed |
|
His trembling hands begin to take the strain |
|
His eyes are blind with streaming tears |
|
And he cries for all to hear: |
|
Forgive me God we hang him in thy name! |
|
Forgive me God we hang him in thy name! |
|
Forgive me God we hang him in thy name! |
|
Oh please forgive me God we hang him in thy name! |
|
Forgive me God we hang him in thy name! |