To Comfort The Condemned

Do not fear the gallows, child,

No matter where you're led.

The Fates can never be beguiled

By beauty, charms, or dread.

They who sleep upon silk sheets,

On softest featherbed,

Know nothing of the dirty streets

Where countless hundreds bled.

Never fear the broadsword

Where it hangs above your head,

For when they cut that ivory cord,

Their blood will dye it red.

You mustn't fear the fiercest threats,

Nor hangman's heavy tread.

Just live, my love, without regrets,

Dry blood can ne'er be shed.

And should that time draw near to you,

Remember what I've said –

There's nothing any man can do

To those already dead.