Rhyming Stories

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The Hanging Tree

They are hanging me tonight, my deeds in this life were not always right. And they're hanging me tonight.

We come into this world with all hope and glory. Now the hanging tree awaits the end of this story.

The sinful deeds of my past I must confess. As I lay here in the dark and my soul cannot rest.

The law would look back and say my actions were not on course. But now the weeping hanging tree waits without remorse.

They are hanging me tonight, for I shot the one I thought I loved. She will be buried at dawn, and will watch from above. As I hang from the hanging tree, not loved.

My mind cannot erase that day's event. My soul is lost in deep repent.

And now from that fateful day, I lay here in the dark and can only pray.

And the weeping willow tree haunts my mind. That hanging tree, tonight I soon will find.


I rode the dusty trails of Mexico all day. With a deep thirst, and a town I found on the way. The cursed town of Alveta, so some say. Even their dead fear and never pray.

The growl of a stray dog, the squeal of the cantina door. The Mexican cowboys drink, and some sleep on the floor. And whisky flows free and they call for more.

There I was silenced by my Mexican Maiden, who was at more than just play. She was the one I thought I loved and now we cannot turn back this day.

And thoughts of a dusty street where soon, one will lay. 'And no one will stop to pray.'

Her new lover, they say, drank whiskey most of the day. And when night came, crawled to the saloons seeking new prey.

In a rage, I called out his name. An insult for a gunslinger of his fame.

As the one, I thought I loved slides off his knee. And now seven notches on a gun barrel is starring at me. And the one I thought that I loved begins taunting me.

I have a gun barrel planted deep in my chest, as I back out the cantina's door. The deep scar on his face I see once more. And the bottle he drank from falls to the floor. And now, the one I loved smiles no more.

One the streets laid of drifting sand. I back and turn, while I still can.

I have the sun at my back as the unforgiving heat adds a curse to this barren land. I will fight for the one I have loved, now I take my stand.

A dead silence come from this cursed town, the streets are bare and no one is found. And the one I thought I loved holds his hand, as the Great Westerly winds calm this moment without a sound.

Even the stray dog with the growl hides under the steps of a silenced town. We have come to the point of no return, and unanswered prayers are late to turn this around.

I calm my heart for this my last breath. Is the one I thought I loved worth my death.

The burning sun at my back reflects off my gun I wear at my hip. His eyes squint as he bites down on the cigar on his lip.

Now the gunslinger with the sun in his eyes sees his mistake. We are left to time and sealed to our fate.

His slight of hand motions for a draw. My speed is matched by what I saw.

My bullet is fast and in line. I fire and fire. For it's him my bullet must find. And now, the one I loved just stopped time.

A bullet found her heart, as she jumped in front to save the one she loved. God Himself, granted me the speed as another bullet enters him, slightly above.

They both fall to the street laid of drifted sand, caught in time, dead, now not loved.

Now they are hanging me tonight, and the hour draws near. The weeping hanging tree awaits this night with no fear.

And come the dawn, the cursed town will bury the one I loved. The weeping hanging tree will again bask once more in the morning sun.

My fate is now in the hands of God; Will I be loved as my soul watches from above.

They're hanging me tonight.


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