I sit here , in this lonely room
Four walls, that press so hard.
And stare between infernal bars,
Across this prison yard
They say that I`m a spy, no less
For letters I did write.
To tell my kin in Tennessee
Of how I hate this fight.
I`m all alone, and stranded here
In Lincoln's blighted land.
They say that they will hang me soon,
From gallows, tall and grand.
What have I done to merit this?
An end so awful cruel.
I only wrote "The South was right,
And Lincoln is a fool."
Now they approach, I hear their steps,
To take me from this place.
This one last time when I will feel,
The sun upon my face.
There's two of them, all dressed in blue,
Their feelings do not show,
They quietly lift me from my bed
And say "Its time to go."
We mount the steps, the Parsons there,
With bible held in hand.
He prays for me, and all my kin,
Back home, in Dixieland.
One last look, I then do take
before they fit the rope.
Of Gods sweet world, and clear blue sky.
I cannot give up hope.
I close my eyes, and pray to God,
For those I leave behind.
My memory, to always stay,
Forever, in their mind.
I hear the lever start to move,
With tears upon my face,
I try to speak, but words wont come