It said his blade weighed half a tonne,
O’ Spanish steel, Christ how it shone,
With a whistle & thump yer dash were done,
And the axe cared not for who you were,
He kept a cell below the tower,
Where he signed the cross every half an hour,
With a calf skin drum & a rattle tat taa,
The Jolly Executioner.
He had a son, a drunken sailor,
Coulda been a Tinker, Tyke, or tailor,
Sailed away to far Australia,
To be the executioner,
His rope were short, his knots were tight,
He’d plait the hemp by candle light,
white
whistle
where
weighed
vagabonds
twang
tower
tight
their
string
steel
sparky
short
invented
cross
crackle
crooks
alone
jolly
light
noble
stand
crack
coats
tinker
strike
signed
death
breed
christ
cared
thump
drunken
knees
below
blade
bloke
stretch
executioner
hapless
souls
practitioner
cooked
coulda
apart
brought
shone
fortunate
rattle
broke
dying
candle
farewell
every
electricity
freeze
tailor
heart
australia
general
goodnight
tonne
handed
crumbs
knots
spanish
rotten
plait
sailor
sailed
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