Glistening droplets,
An icycle breeze,
Clouds of autumn,
Falling from the trees,
The gallows are calling,
Death is near,
Upon the boys face,
Trickles a tear,
Stepping up to the plate,
His mouth is dry,
All others beside him,
Start to weep and cry,
A muscular man approaches,
All solemn and dark,
The look on his face,
Would leave a mark,
The rope is hooked,
Over the little boys head,
All through the town,
Is a feeling of dread,
On everyone's face, - soaked in the grief
A terrible frown, - everyone drowns
As the little boy,
Comes crashing down.