The Gibbet's Curse

The Gibbet’s Curse A tall wooden scaffold is being built A consequence of my proven guilt The convicts from a prison gang Build a frame from which I‘ll hang The pastor visits as he had planned He places a Bible in my hand He tells me I must not lose hope Of escaping the hangman’s rope I recite a prayer, for what it’s worth Tomorrow will be my last on Earth I wait alone throughout the night Death will come at morning light Rays of sunlight enter the room They herald my impending doom And a pitiful way to end my life Alone, without a friend or a wife Outside some people laugh and joke I ask the jailer ‘Who are those folk?’ He says ‘Please do not ask me why But they are here to watch you die’. ‘Have they really nothing better to do Than to come here for a close up view? And watch me die in this poor fashion With no respect and no compassion?’ Upon the door there comes a knock A metal key turns in the lock ‘It is time to go’ the jailer sighs A mournful look is in his eyes A hush falls over the waiting crowd A harsh remark is spoken too loud I take note of the perpetrator I will deal with him a little later I climb the steps with feet of lead The gibbet’s noose goes over my head The executioner is looking grim As though the rope was meant for him A soft breeze carries the smell of pine And the sweet scent of the columbine Fields of clover, a cloudless sky A perfect day on which to die A hawk hovers on a thermal breeze Free to go where it may please May it be over land or over the sea I so dearly wish that it were me ‘Is there anything you wish to tell Before I send you straight to Hell? I give the hangman a knowing stare And tell him I’ll wait for him there I see the heckler amongst the ghouls A heartless jester who ridicules ‘The Gibbet’s Curse on you’ I cry ‘Who mocks someone about to die’ The pastor prays but no one hears The man I cursed is now in tears My feet no longer feel the floor I disappear thro’ death’s trapdoor