Hanging Tree Lyrics

You take the south road, out of Greenville, about a mile, take a left

Down a dirt track, towards the ranch house, the one they burned down, to pay the debt

A little further, towards the river, you'll find a clearing, where nothing grows

In the middle, there's a dead tree, it has a history, few people know

Oh, hanging tree, hanging tree, you don't go down to the hanging tree

Hanging tree, hanging tree, it's not the place for you and me, hanging tree

Oliver Moore, a black tenant farmer, grew tobacco, on a scrap of land

He worked hard, to make a living, but things didn't turn out, quite as he planned

He got acquainted, with a white man's daughter, a rich man who lived, on the hill

On trumped up charges, he was arrested, and got thrown in, the county jail

Oh, hanging tree, hanging tree, you don't go down to the hanging tree

Hanging tree, hanging tree, it's not the place for you and me, hanging tree

An angry mob, with guns and pitchforks, kidnapped Moore, from the county jail

They dragged him, down a narrow farm track, and lynched him, in a field of kale

They hung his body, on a walnut tree, left it hanging, overnight

In that body, they found eighteen bullets, it was, a fearful sight

Oh, hanging tree, hanging tree, you don't go down to the hanging tree

Hanging tree, hanging tree, it's not the place for you and me

It's not the place, not the place, not the place for you and me

Hanging tree, hanging tree, hanging tree