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