Weh The Men Of Gallow Proud
A final drink to end the day, a waning moon to light the
way. The hair it falls into my eyes, and soon the last
clear mem'ry dies. Then somewhere off the reg'lar track I
sense some sort of foul attack. There right atop a hill
they call The Gallow Proud stands a crowd. I find a place
to watch the scene, and try to fight a fear so mean. The
crowd grows bigger as I wait, now all I have to trust is
fate. 'Cause legend says that all the grudge of men
hanged right there by the judge - someday will bring them
back to life, and in the night make things right. And now
I see the ghouls move down, I get the feeling I will
drown. But legend says the pure and grand will all be
spared, so I still stand. Now sober'd up by eyes that
burn, suddenly I see one of them turn He walks this way,
flashing an axe, I hear a crack - then all is black.
