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• Artiste: Alison Krauss
• Titre: The Hangman
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Into our town the Hangman came Smelling of gold and blood and flame And he paced our bricks with a diffident air And built his frame on the courthouse square The scaffold stood by the courthouse side Only as wide as the door was wide A frame as tall or a little more Than the capping sill of the courthouse door And we wondered, we had the time Who the criminal, what the crime The Hangman judged with the yellow twist Of knotted hemp in his busy fist And innocent though we were with dread We passed those eyes of buckshot lead Till one cried, "Hangman, who is he For whom you raise the gallows tree?" A twinkle grew in the buckshot eye He gave us a riddle instead of reply "He who served me the best," said he "Shall earn the rope on the gallows tree" The next day's sun looked mildly down On roof and street in our quiet town Stark and black in the morning air The gallows tree on the courthouse square