A wooden scaffold is being built

Consequence of my proven guilt

The convicts from a prison gang

Build a frame from which I’ll hang

The pastor visits as he planned

He puts a Bible in my hand

He tells me I must not lose hope

Of escaping the gibbet’s rope

I pray to God for what it’s worth

Tomorrow is my last on Earth

I wait alone throughout the night

For death to come at morning light

Rays of sunlight enter my room

Harbingers of impending doom

The ending of my mortal life

Alone without a friend or wife

Outside some people laugh and joke

I ask the guard ‘Who are those folk?’

He says ‘Please do not ask me why

But they are here to watch you die’

‘Have they nothing better to do

Than come here for a close up view?

And watch me die in this fashion

With no respect, no compassion?’

Upon the door there comes a knock

A metal key turns in the lock

 ‘It’s time to go’ the jailer sighs

A mournful look is in his eyes

A hush falls on the waiting crowd

A harsh remark is spoken loud

I take note of the perpetrator

I’ll deal with him a little later

I climb the steps with feet of lead

Gibbet’s noose goes over my head

The hangman he is looking grim

As tho’ the rope was meant for him

A mistral wind that smells of pine

The sweet scent of the columbine

Fields of clover, a cloudless sky

The perfect day on which to die

A hawk hangs on a thermal breeze

Free to go where it may please

Its flies so high and flies so free

I dearly wish that it were me

‘Is there anything you wish to tell

Before I send you down to Hell’

‘To Hell I’m going, that is true

And I’ll be waiting there for you’

The heckler stands among the ghouls

 The heartless fool who ridicules

‘The Gibbet’s Curse on you’ I cry

‘Who mocks someone about to die’

The pastor prays but no one hears

The heckler he breaks down in tears

My feet no longer feel the floor

I disappear through death’s trapdoor