I knew a man in Burlington contented with his life
He never stopped to argue nor would he start a fight
Rejected by his brother
And then his family
For they suspected treason in the first degree
For once upon a Sunday he stood against their view
And he told the congregation there was nothing he would do
Defending cheap convictions
You call a cause for war
I beg of you my brothers not to k** no more
Oh how the jackals gather when famine stalks the land
And how the tongues will flatter in the heads of every man
They burned and broke down all his crops
His cattle they did slay
And they hung him from a white oak tree for the birds of prey
Now early the next morning I went to cut him down
And found him painted colours with a circus clown
He's buried in the mountains
A hidden grave I made
And I don't speak to strangers I turn the other way