They Are Marching Down On High Street

Move aside! Make way for the admiral deputy! Make
Way for the murderer that is about to hang!
Witness the execution! An executioner! Move along!

Down in old Wapping Docks near the banks and the rocks
Where the gimmicks used to sing across the Thames
Every now and every then with a silver or with them
The marshals come to visit our block
If you cannot pay your rent, off to prison you'll be sent
Where the jailers entertain you in the stone hall
Like the tattooed one-armed creature they call the Newgate Preacher
Who his tales of liberty must repent

Hear the royal drums beat and the marching of their feet
A procession is coming down on High Street
And bound to depart lay him shackled to the cart
The poor lad who is heading for the docks

But for my own felony there will be no clemency
As a gentleman of fortune I have served
And now I'm rolling out of jail and my final quart of ale
Has been paid for by the marshal reputable

Hear the royal drums beat and the marching of their feet
A procession is coming down on High Street
And bound to depart lay him shackled to the cart
The poor lad who is heading for the docks

For this morbid dalliance in hopes to catch a glance
My audience has come to see my dance
Like the withered William Kidd who I'll now be hanging with
As the car towards the docks has well advanced
I can see my house from here, see I grew up over there
Was still a whopping boy, to this I swear
As the chaplain reads his prayers I climb the wooden stairs
And my true love stands there staring at the snare

Hear the royal drums beat and the marching of their feet
A procession is coming down on High Street
And bound to depart lay him shackled to the cart
The poor lad who is heading for the docks

I, the keeper of the liberty of England, by authority of
The Parliament, by the laws of the admiralty, in the name
Of his majesty George, by the grace of God, king of Great
Britain, France and Ireland, present under defense...

Oh, close your eyes, walk away now, my love
Don't be here when the time is in the morning
And I will see you at the heavenly gates
When we'll face who we have silenced on this good day

Hear the royal drums beat and the marching of their feet
A procession is coming down on High Street
And bound to depart lay him shackled to the cart
The poor lad who is heading for the docks
Hear the royal drums beat and the marching of their feet
A procession is coming down on High Street
And bound to depart lay him shackled to the cart
The poor lad who is heading for the docks