The Executioner
A tinge of guilt or a twinge of sin
Ghostly pallor on his calloused skin
Taking a man's life away again
Might the hangman's conscience be in pain?
Society's dregs must pay their due
And to him it's just a job to do
Innocent, guilty, it matters not
He must obey those who call the shot.
Tonight he'll have sumptuous dinner
Grateful folks treat him like a winner
Like royalty, not a commoner
A toast to the executioner!
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