| The time is near for things to pass, the time for me to leave
|
| But as I lie here all alone, I really can’t believe
|
| The twenty years I’ve spent on earth could end in so much grief
|
| That the many friendly faces should now stare hatefully
|
| A letter home to mother and a letter home to dad
|
| Another for my sweetheart, for whom I feel so sad
|
| A lock of hair to cling to is all that will remain
|
| And the grave inside this prison yard, a stone that bears no name
|
| My trials and tribulations are nearly now all gone
|
| A murderer I never was and my spirit will live on
|
| Jesus, help me in this troubled time, this hour of trouble deep
|
| Help me find my peace of mind, help me Lord, to sleep
|
| Sleep has surprised Mr Lee
|
| We’ll creep in behind his eyes and, with his eyes, we will see
|
| Wherever he goes to, we’ll be close behind
|
| We’ll follow his dreams and we’ll stroll in his mind
|
| Dream, dream
|
| John’s in the garden all green
|
| With uniforms round him, the hound and the fox can be seen
|
| A willow tree leaving its branches to ground
|
| Is breathing in time to a bell’s hollow sound
|
| Dream, dream
|
| Dream, dream
|
| Nature, their numbers have swelled
|
| The sun in the east is the lord of the feast to be held
|
| The doomed and the dutiful tread on the dew
|
| With frost on their faces and shine on their shoes
|
| Dream, dream
|
| Looking to earth and to sky
|
| John stares at John walking slowly along with a sigh
|
| The hand of a stranger takes hold of his arm
|
| And a voice in his ear says «They'll do you no harm»
|
| Dream, dream
|
| Dream, dream
|
| Dream, dream
|
| Wake up John, it’s time to go
|
| Come along John, don’t be slow
|
| Wake up John, it’s time to go
|
| A priest joins the procession just to help me kneel
|
| With a warder at my elbow and another at my heel
|
| Marching in the morning down a path I’ve lately seen
|
| I was sleeping in this garden, am I still within my dream?
|
| The echo of my heartbeat is the beating of a drum
|
| And all the earth is singing with life’s sweet hum
|
| We filed in solemn silence, shuffled through a door
|
| The place where life is taken for the letter of the law
|
| Shake the holy water, summon up the guard
|
| Dying’s very easy, waiting’s very hard
|
| A rope was hanging from the roof, a sight which puzzles me
|
| I thought a gibbet and a guard would make a gallows tree
|
| But now all is revealed, standing there is just a man
|
| My feet are on the trapdoor with a rope around my hand
|
| And now the executioner is shaking hands with me
|
| «My duty I must carry out, you poor fellow,"says he
|
| A strap is tied around my feet and a bag upon my head
|
| And then the noose which separates the living from the dead
|
| Shake the holy water, summon up the guard
|
| Dying’s very easy, waiting’s very hard
|
| There he whispers to me «Have you anything to say?»
|
| My mouth is dry, my throat is tight, I answer «Drop away»
|
| Silence now surrounds me, my heart is beating on
|
| The trapdoor hardly moves at all, my life is still my own
|
| They stand me in a corner with my hands and feet still bound
|
| While a carpenter is called for and an explanation found
|
| «The rain has warped the timbers,"I hear the hangman say
|
| «It's funny but it worked well, I tried it yesterday»
|
| «All is ended now,"they say, «your ordeal’s nearly over
|
| Your life’s as good as ended,"but I hear their voices waver
|
| Once more the boat is shaken and again I hang in limbo
|
| With the guardians on the trapdoor and my body stands on tip-toe
|
| Shake the holy water, summon up the guard
|
| Dying’s very easy, waiting’s very hard
|
| They stand me in a corner with my hands and feet still tied
|
| A warder holds onto the noose, the trapdoor opens wide
|
| Is it magic or coincidence that keeps me on the brink?
|
| It seems to work without me, «Will it kill me now?"I think
|
| «Please, I’m tired of living and I really want to die»
|
| I was taken to the scaffold and I heard the hangman cry
|
| «Lee, I’m truly sorry, forgive these hands of mine»
|
| He drew the bolt and I felt the jolt the third and final time
|
| My life was spared that morning 'cause it wasn’t theirs to take
|
| Three’s the most the law requires, a man could feel the stake
|
| Shake the holy water, summon up the guard
|
| Dying’s very easy, waiting’s very hard |