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Waltz of the Condemned
Through Icy skies, the bell has rung,
Awaiting seven more.
The captain, mate, lieutenant,
And the sergeant board the floor.
At dawn the condemned arrives
To meet the strike of his demise.
~*~
The face of he who soon will die
By hands well known to crime,
Masked by cloth so black
It casts a void through heartless minds,
Holding back tears to those whose sorrow flows
Through hearts so faint it shines.
~*~
The rope is tied by fingers wide
Of governor's filthy pay.
The noose is readied and soon will dangle
The city's petty prey.
Led by the sergeant's steady hands,
The walking dead ascends the steps.
~*~
The fourth bell rings so loud it marks
The halfway of the path
Toward dropping floor and swinging door
And sudden, judicial death.
The rope is wrapped about the victim's mouth
And lowered to his neck.
~*~
The crowd, it screams impatiently;
The blood, it yearns to drink.
Their eyes were starved of lawful death.
The public humility
Poured in the ears of one who viewed the sun
Descend o'er a peaceful sea.
~*~
"O, Captain, my captain, six bells have rung,
May I pull the rope?"
"No, not yet, my dear lieutenant;
The last bell has not tolled."
"Well, when the hell is the last bell?
My hands are getting cold!"
~*~
The captain's hand was on his sword;
The mate was standing 'round.
The sergeant stood a-waiting for
The last bell to resound.
Later they'll whine and moan in their perfect homes
About the jobs to which their bound.
~*~
The rope was pulled. The corpse was dropped.
The cheering crowd soon waned.
The suspect's neck was pulled and split;
Never more should any fray.
The sun went down on the peaceful town
As the murderer rode away.