Three Men Hanging

Get on with it put off the fuss you chickenshit

Get on with it can't you see it's time to quit

I seen three men hangin' from a sycamore

Their bodies were stiff as a two by four

And their heads were tilted down towards the ground

And it ain't been long since they been up there

That their bodies turned cold hangin' in that air

And they might have froze before that noose got to them

Old scratch has dealt us a dirty hand

He had the look of a saint but the greed of a man

And his face was worn and wrinkled like a leather book

And if i put this revolver to my head

Will god turn against me instead of taking pity on a broken man?

Get on with it.