Yonder stands the Hanging Tree

The Sheriff proudly said

To the crowd of pioneers,

as he grandly led

them through the little western town,

Not much to see or do,

Saloon, school, jail and general store

A little church and you

Had pretty much seen all there was

To see of this small town,

But behold the Hanging Tree,

The largest one around,

And when there was a hanging,

Folks came from far and wide,

Toting heavy picnic baskets

“Like a carnival!” they cried.

And so the guilty were strung up,

and breathed their last and died.

And no one could quite figure out,

Why their source of pride,

This stately, regal, giant oak,

The greatest one around,

Suddenly one day just fell

Over on the ground;

Some said there was an earthquake,

Some said that lightning struck,

But the skies were clear that day,

Some called it devil’s luck.

Some said the tree had shuddered,

Some said they heard a cry

From deep within its branches,

As the hanging tree just died.


Sandra Lee Smith/May 2008

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