The men at the gallows are never quant,
They stare at the step of death, to rest.
To rest their suffering hearts and minds to peace,
They know suffering, and know the gallows.
By the blade they further wonder,
At the next stroke of the hour, they do wait.
For death to come and see their faces – to hope that the tax might be paid.
Yet no man is so lucky,
To escape the journey forth,
And we will stare at the gallows,
Until the gallows do take.