The men, women and children gathered round that hangin' tree
The word was out a young man soon would die
But no one seemed concerned enough to tell his family
Of just exactly where his bones would lie
Oh, yes, they had a trial,
But it didn't last too long
The judge began to smile, as they sang that hangin' song
They said:
We're gonna hang you, from that hangin' tree
Cause what you done was in the first degree
We'll send a preacher to bless your soul,
Then we'll dig that six foot hole
We're gonna hang you, from that hangin' tree
From the black hills he'd come, into the town of Parmelee
He saw a man bleeding and dying on the ground
Jumped off his horse to help the man,
But as he reached his knees,
Heard the dying words, "Son, don't go near that town."
Then a dozen men appeared, and they saw what he had found
They blamed him for the killing, then they led him into town
We're gonna hang you, from that hangin' tree
Cause what you done was in the first degree
We'll send a preacher to bless your soul
Then we'll dig that six foot hole
We're gonna hang you, from that hangin' tree
Well, the marshal of this town was a crook named Willie B.
He had beady eyes and a badge upon his chest
He told the crowd outside the jail, as calmly as could be
"I caught him, so now you can do the rest."
Well they drug him to the courthouse,
And they held a makeshift trial,
The judge he dropped his hammer, and that crowd began to smile
They said:
We're gonna hang you, from that hangin' tree
Cause what you done was in the first degree
We'll send a preacher to bless your soul,
Then we'll dig that six foot hole
We're gonna hang you, from that hangin' tree
The young man bowed in silence, as he said a word of prayer
Forgive them lord, they know not what they've done
Then he grabbed the guard beside him, and he headed for the door
Sayin, "Leave me be, or he'll die from his own gun."
On a horse he headed out of town,
With a posse close behind,
And they were riding hard and fast, with one thing on their mind
Suddenly, the preacher appeared upon the road
He said, "Turn around, and let the boy go free,
For I done saw the killin', and me story shall be told
That the murderer was you marshal, Willie B."
Well that posse looked in disbelief, ashamed for what they'd done
That man had run this town too long,
But now his day had come
We're gonna hang him, from that hangin' tree
Cause what he done was in the first degree
We'll send a preacher to bless his soul,
Then we'll dig that six foot hole
We're gonna hang him, from that hangin' tree
We're gonna hang you, from that hangin' tree
Cause what you done was in the first degree
We'll send a preacher to bless your soul,
Then we'll dig that six foot hole
We're gonna hang you, from that hangin' tree
Yes we're gonna hang that ol' marshal Willie B.
We're gonna hang him, from that hangin' tree
