The Hancock Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Ohio) 1857-1870, 1867-07-12
Ihought anv treason. or cid anv crime

thous hi any treason, cid any crime
That should call TO my cheek, As stand alone here.
The hot blush Of shame. ar the GOODNESS Oifear;
Though stood by the grave to receive my death-how
Before God and the world would you, no.
/ But If you would ask me- think Ike
II in the rebellion carried n pike,
fought for ould Ireland tho the close.
/ An shed the hearts blood of her btlerest foes,
answer you, yes andIiei you again,
Though stand here 10 perish is my iory that then
In her cause Was willing my should veins dhry,
A n that nov for her sake am ready 10 die
Then the silence great and the jury smiled bright
An the judge wasn't sorry the job made light;
By my sowl, it's hizlself the Grabbed oud chap!
In twinklins he pulled on his ugly black cap
Then Shamuss mother in q crowd standing by,
Called out to the Judge with ptifu cry:
40, judge darln', don't, o, don't the wordi
The crathur is young have mercy, my lord
He WAS foolish. he didn't know what he WAS doin'
You don't know him, my lOrd-o, don't give him to ruin
He's the kndiesi crathur. the tenderest-hearted;
Don't part US forever, that's so long parted.
Judge, forgive him, forgive him. my lord,
An Cod will forgive you-0 dent say the word -
Thatwss the first minute that 0'Bren shaken,
When he saw that he quite forgot forsaken
An down his pale cheeks at the word of his mother
The big tears runnn' fast, after tn other
An two or three times he endeavored to spake.
But the shrong manly voice used to father break;
But at last by the strength of his high prids
He conquered and masthered his griefs swelling tide,
says he, mother dsrln don't break your poor heart
For. sooner later, the dearest must part
an God knows it's better than wandering in fear
On the bleak. rsckless mountain, the wild deer,
To lie in the where the head, heart, and breast
From thought, labor, and SORROW forever shall rest.
Then, mother, my darlin', don't cry any moro.
Don't make seem broken, in this, my hour;
For 1 wish when my heads lyin undher the raven,
No say that diedlike a crayeng'
Then towards the judge Shsmus bent down his head
An that mement the solemn death sentence said
The mornin' was bright an the msts on high,
An the lark whistled merriy a the clear sky
But why the stsndn' idle late
An why do the crowds .ther fast the streetl
What come they 10 talk of? what come they to see
An why does the long rope hang the crosstree?
o, Shauus O'5rien! pray fervent and fast,
May the saints take soul for the day is your
Pray fast and pray sthrong, for the moment is NIGH
When sthrong proud. an great you you must de-
An fasther an asiher, the crowd gathered there,
Boys, horses. aud gingerbread, jist Ike n fair
An Shistey selin, an cassamuck too,
An oud men and young enjoying the view.
An oud Tim Mulyany, he made the remark,
There wasn't sch sight since the time of Soahs ark
An be CORY, twas thrue for him. for div such soruge
sich divarshtn and crowds known the de.uge,
For thousands gathsrsd there II there one,
wsitin' till sich the hangn' Id come N.
At las. they threw open the big prison gate.
An out the sherifs and sodgers u stale
An a in the middle, Shsnus q L it,
Not paier, but prouder THAI ever that minute.
An as the people Shsmus o'BrIen,
With prsyin and bessin', and all the girls eryin,
A wild wsIin sound KEN by degrees,
Like the sound of the lonesome wind through
On, 10 the gaIiows the sherins gone,
An the cart an The sodgers go steadily on;
every side sweilin' around OF the cart,
A wild, sorrowful sound that Id open besri-
Nov unaer Z gaIsows the cart takesits stand,
An the hsngman gets up with the rope in his hand;
priest havin best him goes down the ground,
n Shsmus o Brien throws last LOOK round
Then the hangmAn dhrew an the people sim.
Young turn sickly and warm hearts turn chill
An the rope oein ready, his neck was made bare,
Fer sr.pe iv the life sranellns cord to prepare;
soo1 priest him. havn' said his last prayer
the good priest dono for his hands he unbound
An with daring spring Jim has eaped the ground
Bang! bang 20 tie carbines and clash the sabres
down he's alive still stand to him, neighborst
Through and the horses he's into the croxd.
By heavens, he's Tree than thunder more loud.
shout from the people the heavens shaken
shout that the dead Of the world might awaken,
The sodgers this way the sherifs ran that,
An Father Malone lost his new Sunday hat;
Tonight he'll be sleepin in Aherioe Cin,
An the dvils the dice IL you catch him agIn.
Your they may glitter, your carbires go bang,
But If you want hxngin,' hs yourself you must hang.
He has mounted his horse, and he will be
In America, darlnt. the land of the tree