Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark

The Hangman's Noose

They hanged John Farrell till he was dead

At dawn in the marketplace;

At dusk the Hangman walked up to him

And spat upon his face.

"Just take a look," the Hangman cried,

"Behold, John Farrell's fate!

"It's proven here the hangman's noose

Is stronger than man's hate!

For you all heard John Farrell's vow

To take revenge on me.

But now in death, see how he hangs

high on the gallows tree!"

Yet never a word the people spoke,

in fear and shocked surprise,

For the grisly corpse raised up his head

And stared with sightless eyes.

And with strange motions, slow and stiff,

He pointed and the crowd did gasp

As he clambered down the gallows tree,

the noose clutched in his grasp.

With his mouth agape, the Hangman stood

like a statue made of stone,

Till the dead man laid a clammy hand

hard on his shoulder bone.

The Hangman shrieked like a soul in hell;

The blood drained from his face

He turned and ran, in fear of his life

through the screaming marketplace;

And close behind, the dead man came,

His face a seething, pallid mask,

The dead arms cracked and stiff legs creaked

As they performed their final task.

The townsfolk fled from the fearsome sight

And they hid and held their breath,

For they saw the terror in the Hangman's eyes

As he was singled out by death.

He tripped and fell, got up again,

And on and on he fled;

So through the empty marketplace,

The dying man fled the dead.

At the river's bank, the Hangman fell

with a scream that rent the skies;

Across him fell John Farrell's corpse,

Never again to rise.

The Hangman's body bore no wounds,

But his brow was cold and damp.

The fear of death snuffed out his life

Like the wind blows out a lamp.

Upon his lips, a horrid grin.

His eyes were black as coals.

The men that saw his face that day,

Say the sight still haunts their souls.

The Hangman found such a fitting end,

a strange, unearthly fate;

For stronger than death or a hangman's noose

Is the force of a dead man's hate.