The streets were lined with factory workers pouring into the mills The whalers and the sailors tallied up their morning kills And up the hill on second street two bodies lying dead Father Andrew on the couch, Abby borden by the bed
Chop chop down the alley Chop chop chop down the docks Hacked to death in daylight in the comfort of their home Without a living witness the offender left to roam
They set to find the tortured soul that drew this cruel display They gathered quotes and filled their totes and mapped the horrid spray And like a strike of lightning, the news had hit the town Crowded by the dozens and assembled round house
And all the fingers pointed straight to Lizzie As she sat before a jury of her day Self possession guarded by the book of Jeremiah They wouldn't let their native born be cast like a pariah
In the choppy bay of Mountain Hope I walked a mile to get back home Salty streets and cobblestones I sung a tune of me own And there was I, a passerby A heedful ear, a watching eye I heard the haunting howling cry That sent the birds awry
Lizzie Borden took an axe And gave her mother 40 whacks When she saw what she had done She gave her father 41 Lizzie Borden took an axe And gave her mother 40 whacks When she saw what she had done She gave her father 41
Lizzie Borden took an axe And gave her mother 40 whacks When she saw what she had done She gave her father 41Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
