High on Hangman Hill there's a tree
That's dry and withered by the sun
Though it's dead it still stands strong
Like it's shadow that is hung
The folks that own that land have tied
To pull that old tree down
But the roots run too damn deep
Like it's story
It won't let go
A hundred years ago three Men died
They hung em from that tree
The branches held them tall and proud
For all the town to see
Three Indian men with innocent blood
Only guilty for their pride
Their women cursed that tree
And like their spirit
It'll never die.
High on Hangmen Hill
When the night falls it brings a chill
Sometimes you can hear em still
When the wind blows
The Widows cry
High on Hangmen Hill
Hey
High on Hangmen Hill
When the night falls it brings a chill
Sometimes you can hear em still
When the wind blows
The Widows cry
High on Hangmen Hill
Hey
The folks that own that land have tied
To pull that old tree down
But the roots run too damn deep
Like it's story
It won't let go
