Three Men Hanging - Murder By Death

Get on with it

Put off the fuss you chickenshit

Get on with it

Can’t you see it’s time to quit

I seen three men hanging from a sycamore

Their bodies were stiff as a two by four

And their heads were tilted down towards the ground

And it ain’t been long since they been up there

That their bodies turned cold hanging in that air

And they might have froze before that noose got to them old

Get on with it

Put off the fuss you chickenshit

Get on with it

Can’t you see it’s time to quit

Scratch has dealt us a dirty hand

He had the look of a saint but the greed of a man

And his face was worn and wrinkled like a leather book

And if I put this revolver to my head will God turn against me instead

Of taking pity on a broken man?

Get on with it