The heavyset frame, the shaven head
Bloodshot eyes, flowing moustache
Thick neck, hairy torso and slow gait
Inspire awe mingled with hate


People shrink when he passes the road
Here goes the hangman- what a terrible job!
Does he ever get peace of mind?
But the hangman is placid- why should he mind?

His job is no worse than that of a butcher
He merely executes law- he is a mere executioner
Like a professional he takes pride in his job
He attends minutely to the slightest detail- so as to complete a smooth job

It is the learned judge- the anxious jury who pass the verdict
They break the nib and leave him the dirty job of breaking the rib
He makes the noose and tries to release the convict as mercifully fast as
possible
Yet he only earns the ire of public- the accused and prosecutors soon
forgotten

This is unjust, be fair to the executioner
His cruelty is visible although he just executes the decree
What about the leaders, the traders, the landlords and preachers!
You rob and kill blatantly-but no finger ever points to thee
Because your victims die a slow death- dead dreams leave no corpse in
stature.