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And when we're gone who will sing our song?
Martyred all though in our prime and strong
Whoever casts rope over this dead oak
Let them know our spirits never broke

Old rope drops for all to see
And so I will hang from this wretched tree

There came many, there came more
The sound on water of the crashing oar
Though they sought our counsel in good stead
With our weapons lowered, them we did not dread

Old rope drops for all to see
And so I will hang from this wretched tree

Aghast! Over the branch a rope is cast!
now it stands as a funerary servant
Another tale it has to grant

before I swing in a litting freeze
I shout my curses and profanities
Now it stands so silently
There I swing from a wretched tree

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