Ballad of John Elliot


It was a cold evening, that you must know
The people wondered where he would go
A poor young man, wise and capable
The guillotine was too inescapable

Standing straight his name was called
His wife and children were appalled
The crowd was watching to and fro
"Off to the guillotine you will go!"

The frame was wooden and quite tall
A cry or murmur was heard by all
The pain was felt throughout the town
A pool of blood was left to be found

Legend has it, tales do say
That a tall young man haunts each day
He is seen alone and never insight
Even where it happened that night

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