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The Whipping Song
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Rev Hammer
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I stripped his back at the prison gates And there this journey starts. As the sun beat down on the bloody ground I tied him to the cart As the sun it burned and the cartwheel it turned And the people lined the way, More welcome be his Cross of Christ Than the Devil's dirty pay. Chorus: And I whipped him from Fleet Prison Down through Temple Bar Up the Strand past Charing Cross To new Palace Yard. A Free-born Englishman, a free-born Son, I whipped him while the crowd sang "Free-born John". I heard he would not take the oath, 'Til first he'd been accused He spoke out against the Church, the Courts And the abuse. At the Kings Gate some asked of me What he had done wrong? No crime said I But he claims the rights of a Free-born John. Five hundred blows, fifteen hundred stripes, Wounds the size of tobacco pipes And dust in his eyes. I stood him in the pillory And gagged him, 'til he bled, He threw pamphlets to a waiting crowd, And I believe a nation read.
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