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Poem	WHAT does the hangman think about When he goes home at night from work? When he sits down with his wife and Children for a cup of coffee and a Plate of ham and eggs, do they ask Him if it was a good day’s work And everything went well or do they Stay off some topics and talk about The weather, base ball, politics And the comic strips in the papers And the movies? Do they look at his Hands when he reaches for the coffee Or the ham and eggs? If the little Ones say, Daddy, play horse, here’s A rope—does he answer like a joke: I seen enough rope for today? Or does his face light up like a Bonfire of joy and does he say: It’s a good and dandy world we live In. And if a white face moon looks In through a window where a baby girl Sleeps and the moon gleams mix with Baby ears and baby hair—the hangman— How does he act then? It must be easy For him. Anything is easy for a hangman, I guess.
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