March him up the mountain
Rifle in his back
To the gallows yonder just beyond the track
To pay for what could not be taken back
The town had come and gathered
But no idea unclothed
For the shame and guilt were worn on them like heavy heavy clothes
Dressed in black but whiter than a ghost
Swing low sweet lord
Cause no one's listening no more
Let go or pull toward
But if you don't do anything, swing low
Mud filled up the river
Dust filled up the sky
And rage filled up the mother when they covered up his eyes
Sacrifice to cover what still hides
Swing low sweet lord
Cause no one's listening no more
Let go or pull toward
But if you don't do anything, swing low