Get on with it put off the fuss you chickenshit get on with it can't you see its time to quit I seen three men hangin' 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 hangin' in that air and they might have froze before that noose got to them old 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.