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Dorchester, August 1856
I’m an old man now and ashamed of this
But I had to be in town for other reasons


I stood in a crowd of three or four thousand
The hood on her head and the rope around it
And summer’s sometimes not the warmest season


A fine figure shrouded in black
Hung in the misty rain
Wheeled half-round and back
And her silk gown set off her shape


I’m an old man now and ashamed of this
But in Dorchester, August 1856
I saw hanged Martha Brown of Birdsmoorgate
Dorchester, August 1856   I’m an old man now and ashamed of this   But I had to be in town for other reasons         I stood in a crowd of three or four thousand   The hood on her head and the rope around it   And summer’s sometimes not the warmest season         A fine figure shrouded in black   Hung in the misty rain   Wheeled half-round and back   And her silk gown set off her shape         I’m an old man now and ashamed of this   But in Dorchester, August 1856   I saw hanged Martha Brown of Birdsmoorgate