Here at the gallows
Our voices are quiet,
Our faces are solemn.
The ominous sky
Lurks above,
Carrying the scent of rain.
The convicted man pleas
For mercy, though
We all know his fate.
They tie the scratchy rope
Around his innocent neck
And tie the horrid noose.
Just before the platform drops,
Before the rope tightens
And he desperately gasps for air,
I close my frightened eyes,
Afraid to see the helpless man
Who refused to let Death take him.
But I am still able to hear him
Struggle, still able to hear his
Final breath of air,
Before Death claims another soul,
Just as he always does
Here at the gallows.
