Dorchester, August 1856
I’m an old man now and ashamed of this
But I had to be in town for other reasons

I stood in a crowd of three or four thousand
The hood on her head and the rope around it
And summer’s sometimes not the warmest season

A fine figure shrouded in black
Hung in the misty rain
Wheeled half-round and back
And her silk gown set off her shape

I’m an old man now and ashamed of this
But in Dorchester, August 1856
I saw hanged Martha Brown of Birdsmoorgate