I'm The Hangin' Man v2

southern gothic, americana noir, dark country

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V5.5

I'm The Hangin' Man
[A Lament in Three Verses
He walks slow down the dusty main street, hat pulled low, boots scraping the boards...]
VERSE 1
I pass the baker's window every mornin' on my rounds,
The smell of bread don't reach me now, just silence and the sounds
Of empty chairs and hollow rooms where families used to be,
'Fore the judge read out the verdict and they brought 'em all to me.
I never baked a loaf of bread, I never shod a horse,
I never built a fence or barn, I never charted course
For anything that grew or lived or added to this earth —
I only ever subtracted, Lord, and what is that thing worth?
[He stops at the schoolhouse steps, runs his fingers along the railing...]
CHORUS
I'm the Hangin' Man, I'm the Hangin' Man,
Doin' what the law and God and jury said I can.
But the rope don't wash off in the creek, no matter how I try,
I'm the last face that they ever see before they say goodbye.
I'm the Hangin' Man.
VERSE 2
I walked past the widow Henderson who turned her eyes away,
Her man weren't innocent, it's true, but she still had to pay
The price of bein' left with children, cold beds, barren fields —
And I'm the one who gave that grief the signature and seal.
I seen 'em scared. I seen 'em brave. I seen 'em beg and cry.
I seen young men barely grown try hard not to die.
I said the words the sheriff gave me, kept my manner clean,
But Lord Almighty, what a thing for human eyes to seen.
[He pauses at the base of the hill where the gallows stands against the pale morning sky...]
CHORUS
I'm the Hangin' Man, I'm the Hangin' Man,
Doin' what the law and God and jury said I can.
But the rope don't wash off in the creek, no matter how I try,
I'm the last face that they ever see before they say goodbye.
I'm the Hangin' Man.
VERSE 3
They don't invite me to the suppers, don't include me in the prayers,
Nobody saves the Hangin' Man a spot in Sunday's pews or chairs.
My children at the schoolhouse door get quiet looks and space,
And my wife she wears a Sunday smile to cover up the grace
That God may or may not extend to men who pull the string —
The Good Book talks of mercy, but it don't say much for me.
So I walk this town at early light before the people rise,
And I tip my hat to no one 'neath these grey November skies.
The guilty needed judgin', and the judgin' needed done,
But somebody had to be that man, and Lord — it was this one.
[He stops at the edge of town and looks back down the long empty road he's walked...]
FINAL CHORUS
I'm the Hangin' Man, I'm the Hangin' Man,
I did what law and God and twelve good people said I can.
And the rope may wash off in the creek if I scrub long enough and hard —
But it don't ever leave the place it lives inside this yard.
[He touches the coil of rope on his hip that he never seems to set down.]
I'm the Hangin' Man.
[He walks on. Alone. As always.
"A man can serve justice and still grieve the serving of it."]

2897/7500

I'm The Hangin' Man [A Lament in Three Verses He walks slow down the dusty main street, hat pulled low, boots scraping the boards...] VERSE 1 I pass the baker's window every mornin' on my rounds, The smell of bread don't reach me now, just silence and the sounds Of empty chairs and hollow rooms where families used to be, 'Fore the judge read out the verdict and they brought 'em all to me. I never baked a loaf of bread, I never shod a horse, I never built a fence or barn, I never charted course For anything that grew or lived or added to this earth — I only ever subtracted, Lord, and what is that thing worth? [He stops at the schoolhouse steps, runs his fingers along the railing...] CHORUS I'm the Hangin' Man, I'm the Hangin' Man, Doin' what the law and God and jury said I can. But the rope don't wash off in the creek, no matter how I try, I'm the last face that they ever see before they say goodbye. I'm the Hangin' Man. VERSE 2 I walked past the widow Henderson who turned her eyes away, Her man weren't innocent, it's true, but she still had to pay The price of bein' left with children, cold beds, barren fields — And I'm the one who gave that grief the signature and seal. I seen 'em scared. I seen 'em brave. I seen 'em beg and cry. I seen young men barely grown try hard not to die. I said the words the sheriff gave me, kept my manner clean, But Lord Almighty, what a thing for human eyes to seen. [He pauses at the base of the hill where the gallows stands against the pale morning sky...] CHORUS I'm the Hangin' Man, I'm the Hangin' Man, Doin' what the law and God and jury said I can. But the rope don't wash off in the creek, no matter how I try, I'm the last face that they ever see before they say goodbye. I'm the Hangin' Man. VERSE 3 They don't invite me to the suppers, don't include me in the prayers, Nobody saves the Hangin' Man a spot in Sunday's pews or chairs. My children at the schoolhouse door get quiet looks and space, And my wife she wears a Sunday smile to cover up the grace That God may or may not extend to men who pull the string — The Good Book talks of mercy, but it don't say much for me. So I walk this town at early light before the people rise, And I tip my hat to no one 'neath these grey November skies. The guilty needed judgin', and the judgin' needed done, But somebody had to be that man, and Lord — it was this one. [He stops at the edge of town and looks back down the long empty road he's walked...] FINAL CHORUS I'm the Hangin' Man, I'm the Hangin' Man, I did what law and God and twelve good people said I can. And the rope may wash off in the creek if I scrub long enough and hard — But it don't ever leave the place it lives inside this yard. [He touches the coil of rope on his hip that he never seems to set down.] I'm the Hangin' Man. [He walks on. Alone. As always. "A man can serve justice and still grieve the serving of it."]

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