Dead men, dead men

swinging in a tree

How many dead men

do you see?

Tongue turned blue and

face gone grey

Watch them as they

twist and sway

The first one killed

the butcher man

Then cooked him in

the frying pan

Served him to his hungry guests

And gave them seconds on request

The next one with his smile

and sweets

Stole poor children off the streets

To men who dressed unsavory

He sold them into slavery

Breaking into a home at night

The thief he had a nasty fright

Filled his foolish head with ale

Woke in the morn

in the county jail

The artist with his daunting skill

Tried his hand at painting bills

But caught in rain he was undone

When the ink he'd use did

start to run

With promises of great return

Taking gold he did not earn

Bundled it up out of sight

Quietly slipped off into night

Three houses into ashes burned

The sheriff with no place to turn

Did spy a stranger to his town

Locked him up and beat him down

Dead men, dead men

swinging in a tree

How many dead men

do you see?

Six feet long and

six men wide

Round their necks

the noose be tied