Poor Henry

Now the bell tolls, as the sun sinking fast
And the night growing chill, and the shadows hold still
Where a lone star looks down, on his grey paled face
And we say goodbye, to poor Henry.

The bell tolls its last, the sun sinking fast
And soon he'll be cold, will poor Henry
The crowd gne away, no more fun for today
And how soon they'll forget about Henry.

Henry swings from the Tyburn Tree
The crow will soon come to set his soul free
Swing on the tree, swing on the tree
Till the crow takes his soul and his spirit flies free.

All the birds stopped their singing
As the rope went a swinging, and the church bell was ringing its toll
For one that's so young, and now dead and gone
And the world will move on from poor Henry.

Henry swings from the Tyburn Tree
The crow will soon come to set his soul free
Swing on the tree, swing on the tree
Till the crow takes his soul and his spirit flies free.

A mother will weep, and she'll stay by his side
Untill he's cut down, poor Henry.

Henry swings from the Tyburn Tree
The crow will soon come to set his soul free
Swing on the tree, swing on the tree
Till the crow takes his soul and his spirit flies free.