They hanged three men In Upton Wood:Three months on air Their feet have stood.
The raven came, With raucous cries,And picked well clean The six dead eyes.
Their eyes, that once Revealed their souls,Looked now at night Like six black bowls.
And all by dark Who happened nearFrom these cups drank The wine of fear.
The ravens, in picking The Three necks clean,Had eaten the marks Where the ropes had been.
The first man killed Died raving mad.The second man prayed, And the third was a lad.
They left the lad In this upright sleepFor being with men Who stole men's sheep.
His hair now hung Six inches long;And even his bones Looked young and strong.
Few people walked In Upton WoodWhere three dead men On blue air stood.
But a maid came there Who felt no frightWhen skeletons rattled On a cold, wild night.
She came and watched, By a yellow moon,Three dead men dance Without cape or shoon.
And she came by dark, When she could not see,And heard them dance, On their tall death-tree.
And one cold night, That was still and black,The maiden walked in And never walked back.
When dawn flamed red They found her thereWith a skeleton's foot Caught in her hair.
The bony foot Held as a vise;And the dead maid's eyes Were like blue ice.
Now four ghosts dance In Upton Wood;And two dance together As young ghosts should.
And one is the daughter, Sweet and fair,Of the sheriff who left Three dead men there.
