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Sunday, January 10, 2010


Dead men... Dead men...
Dead men... Dead men...

Dead men, dead men
swinging in a tree
How many dead men
do you see?
Tongue turned blue and
face gone grey
Watch them as they
twist and sway

The first one killed
the butcher man
Then cooked him in
the frying pan
Served him to his hungry guests
And gave them seconds on request

The next one with his smile
and sweets
Stole poor children off the streets
To men who dressed unsavory
He sold them into slavery

Breaking into home at night
The thief he had a nasty fright
Filled his foolish head with ale
Woke in the morn
in the county jail

The artist with his daunting skill
Tried his hand at painting bills
But caught in rain he was undone
When the ink he's use did
start to run

With promises of great return
Taking gold he did not earn
Bundled it up out of sight
Quietly slipped off into night

Three houses into ashes burned
The sheriff with no place to turn
Did spy a stranger to his town
Locked him up and beat him down

Dead men, dead men
swinging in a tree
How many dead men
do you see?
Six feet long and
six men wide
Round their necks
the noose be tied

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