Sir Thomas And The Passer-By
Tempt no laughter, mock nor hate
Risk not loose words, heed my fate...
They have hanged Sir Thomas Wyatt from a rather rotten tree
He could not find it in himself to meet the new decree
When a passer-by exclaimed to him 'up there sir what d'you see?'
Sir Thomas said the angels host that's come to set me free.
The passer-by was stricken fast with feet of lead and clay,
Struck dumb he stared up at the tree with no more jest to say,
Sir Thomas lolled his tongue and laughed 'down there sir why so still?
Deathly shade's upon your face you've come to look quite ill'.
The passer-by with sudden jolt ran hard't the nearest inn
Seeing his shock they gave him ale, his tale he did begin,
'Sir Thomas Wyatt spoke to me 'a hanging from his tree
He'd seen a band of angels coming for to set him free
The keeper said 'you'll take us there and we shall judge his state
And listen to his blasphemy or yours shall be his fate.
When they arrived at the rotten tree Sir Thomas swung about
The keeper bade him 'speak now ghost' for we all share a doubt
But no word from Sir Thomas came and the passer-by was held
By four strong arms and carried back though hard he begged and yelled.
And they hanged the passer-by from the rather rotten tree
Long side Sir Thomas Wyatt on a charge of witchery
The wrong man resurrected is blasphemy and spell
And the right one justifies the case to send them all to hell.