Into our town the Hangman came
Smelling of gold and blood and flame
And he paced our bricks with a diffident air
And built his frame on the courthouse square

The scaffold stood by the courthouse side
Only as wide as the door was wide
A frame as tall or a little more
Than the capping sill of the courthouse door

And we wondered, we had the time
Who the criminal, what the crime
The Hangman judged with the yellow twist
Of knotted hemp in his busy fist

And innocent though we werе with dread
We passed thosе eyes of buckshot lead
Till one cried, "Hangman, who is he
For whom you raise the gallows tree?"

A twinkle grew in the buckshot eye
He gave us a riddle instead of reply
"He who served me the best," said he
"Shall earn the rope on the gallows tree"

The next day's sun looked mildly down
On roof and street in our quiet town
Stark and black in the morning air
The gallows tree on the courthouse square