| A winter cold, eighteen, forty-three.
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| In a whiskey rage, and a heart would bleed.
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| She found a fancy-man, that would do the deed.
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| And take old Henry’s life and set Lucretia free.
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| She said she hated him unless they both were drunk
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| She swore she’d leave him cold, in the corner slumped.
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| Before his eyes were cold, they had the body dumped.
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| And at the break of day Lucretia came undone.
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| The hangman told her the truth,
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| She could dance with the devil at the end of a noose
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| She felt the pain inside from the very start,
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| All hell broke Lucy, it tore her apart.
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| Well a spot of blood by the bed was found,
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| It was hers not his, she was heard to shout.
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| And as they hauled her away and her hands were bound
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| Lucretia’s eyes were cold, as the cold, hard ground
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| The hangman told her the truth,
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| She could dance with the devil at the end of a noose
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| She felt the pain inside from the very start,
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| All hell broke Lucy, it tore her apart.
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| The trial was short the lovers had confessed,
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| And the rope was tied and slipped around their necks
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| And left the holy ground where they would never rest
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| And not a tear was shed the night Lucretia left
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| The hangman told her the truth,
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| She could dance with the devil at the end of a noose
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| She felt the pain inside from the very start,
|
| All hell broke Lucy, it tore her apart.
|
| The hangman told her the truth,
|
| She could dance with the devil at the end of a noose
|
| She felt the pain inside from the very start,
|
| All hell broke Lucy, it tore her apart. |