Fast in his prison cell
And those who read about his crimes,
They damned his soul to hell,
Sayin', "Go down, you murderer, go down."
For the murder of his own dear wife
And the killing of his own child
The jury found him guilty
And the hangin' judge, he smiled.
Tim Evans pleaded innocent
And he swore by Him on high,
That he never killed his own dear wife
Nor caused his child to die.
The governor came in one day
And the chaplain by his side,
Said, "Your appeal has been turned down,
Prepare yourself to die."
They moved him out of C-block
To his final flowery dell,
And day and night two screws were there
And they never left his cell.
Sometimes they played draughts with him
And solo and pontoon,
To stop him brooding on the rope
That was to be his doom.
They brought his grub in on a tray,
There was eggs and meat and ham,
And all the snout that he could smoke
Was there at his command.
Tim Evans walked in the prison yard
And the screws, they walked behind;
And he saw the sky above the wall
But he knew no peace of mind.
They came for him at eight o'clock
And the chaplain read a prayer
And then they walked him to that place
Where the hangman did prepare.
The rope was fixed around his neck
And a washer behind his ear.
The prison bell was tolling
But Tim Evans did not hear.
A thousand lags were cursing
And a-banging on the doors;
But Evans couldn't hear them,
He was deaf for evermore.
They sent Tim Evans to the drop
For a crime he did not do.
It was Christy was the murderer
And the judge and jury too.
Contributed by Alessandro - 2009/9/20 - 22:34
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