Chapter VIII

I came into court to the Judge and the lawyers. I told them my tale,
God's own truth--but they killed him, they killed him for
robbing the mail.
They hanged him in chains for a show--we had always borne
a good name--
To be hanged for a thief--and then put away--isn't that enough shame?
Dust to dust--low down--let us hide! but they set him so high
That all the ships of the world could stare at him, passing by.
God 'ill pardon the hell-black raven and horrible fowls of the air,
But not the black heart of the lawyer who killed him
and hanged him there.