In a savage region that’s
Unruly and benighted,
A young man’s ills were legion as
Each card he picked was blighted.

Still he scooped up with his hands tightly cupped
Insults cruel and vile;
But the bitterness he supped
Still had a taste of bile.

Drink the poison till you’re bloated;
You won’t need to part with cash,
For whichever way a rope twists
It will twist into a lash.

Wretches may not linger and
Walk the earth with packs instead;
Life slips through their fingers and
Is as thin as spider’s thread.

As for those with dues to pay, led astray,
Who go beyond the pale,
Winds have dragged them down the way
That takes them straight to jail.

There’s no mercy there, it’s hopeless;
Clench your teeth and get a grip,
For whichever way a rope twists
It will twist into a whip.

Oh, what a wild, troubled land;
Many moons I’ve tramped through you.
With your scaffold you look grand,
And your slippery rope too.

Satan takes in his own hands those who’re hanged;
Their bare heels he licks -
Laugh or cry you still, goddamn,
Won’t survive and won’t exist.

Laugh, don’t weep and quit your groaning;
Now you’d better dry your eyes,
For whichever way a rope twists
It will still be cut to size.

Night-time thoughts are dim and dark;
Carpenters don’t hang around;
Long before the matins start
They’ll already cut you down.

Don’t you bother to complain; all the same
It will not be put off!
But still the rope that has your name
Doesn’t have a slipknot.

Better lie down where it’s warmest;
Ere the gallows I’ll not snooze,
For whichever way a rope twists
It will twist into a noose.