The Hanging Man
There once lived a man, abhorrent and cruel,
With family he resided, high up on the moor.
He yet drew breath, a misfortune unbeknownst,
To those in his care, their fate soon manifest.
His wife had passed, through illness he claimed,
He sent his two eldest, to labour the land.
So he remained, with child daughter abode,
As his drinking grew more, and his purse ever lighter.
On one stormy night, in a drunken rage,
He took her life, for two shillings and six pence saved.
Bearing child in grasp, to a disused mine he tossed her remains,
And claimed to his neighbours, he had sent her away.
By sheer fortune and distrust, the vicar enquired,
And so it was known, the man had lied.
Reports of a distant light, on that stormy night came in,
Led a search to the mine, where lost child was found.
So the man had fled, but the law followed close behind,
Even across the vast channel, he could not evade his fate.
In chains he was brought back, to face his shameful crime,
And so he was despatched by rope, the hanging man.
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