The wolf's laugh, eerie, cracks the humid night air

The rabbit freezes the fox in his lair

The owl hoots shrilly, is searching the dark

The moon white flangs through the trees, tall and stark, ah

Who would emerge on a night like this?

Who would loose his bonds and greet the air with a hiss?

The battered Christian bows his head in despair

The crown of sharp thorns revealed 'neath his hair

His scrawny body worn thin by the trial

Stands taut and painful on the pilgrim's last mile

A million fleshy things converge upon the spot

His eyes retort, the atmosphere is hot

The wolf sniffs, ivory-fanged, he bristles up his spine

The fox smiles knowingly, but dares not step out of line

Through the twisting, crushing silence, the broken Christian creeps

Each footstep like a thunderclap amongst the trunky deeps

No bird makes sound, no creature moves to break the gripping air

And the Christian, he raises his hands up to his mouth

But for a whisper, he cannot dare

The Christian wakes, trembling with sweat

The cell's dark walls, stony and wet

Metallic echoes as the bolts are drawn back

The door swings inwards, dull light through the crack

The jailer looks indifferent to him

A routine morning martyr's death for him

A misty, cold, sad morning greets the Christian's haggard grin

The rope is slung, and the noose is tied, and the Christian's neck is thin

The block is raised, he stands erect, the rope beneath his chin

They pull the block, and the Christian drops

He hangs above the sin