Paul Roland The Hanging Judge
The hanging judge woke at midday
With fetid breath and tombstone decay
Stubble scratch, cold floor feet
He cursed the whore twixt his crumpled sheets
The hanging judge is hanging today
The hanging judge is hanging today
The Hanging Judge gin to fix
His gouty leg and twitching ticks
Belching broad he greets the day
"Today" says he "is hanging day"
The hanging judge is hanging today
The hanging judge is hanging today
Over nightshirt coarse and stained
His threadbare robes he dons again
Through cobble streets, gable crowned
He makes his way through London town
Fortified with a glass of port he raps the bench "Silence in court"
His birdlike clerk hovers by, "Guilty has charged, hang 'em high"
