The Rumjacks - Lizzie Borden

The streets were lined with factory workers pouring into the mills
The whalers and the sailors tallied up their morning kills
And up the hill on second street two bodies lying dead
Father Andrew on the couch, Abby borden by the bed

Chop chop down the alley
Chop chop chop down the docks
Hacked to death in daylight in the comfort of their home
Without a living witness the offender left to roam

They set to find the tortured soul that drew this cruel display
They gathered quotes and filled their totes and mapped the horrid spray
And like a strike of lightning, the news had hit the town
Crowded by the dozens and assembled round house

And all the fingers pointed straight to Lizzie
As she sat before a jury of her day
Self possession guarded by the book of Jeremiah
They wouldn't let their native born be cast like a pariah

In the choppy bay of Mountain Hope
I walked a mile to get back home
Salty streets and cobblestones
I sung a tune of me own
And there was I, a passerby
A heedful ear, a watching eye
I heard the haunting howling cry
That sent the birds awry

Lizzie Borden took an axe
And gave her mother 40 whacks
When she saw what she had done
She gave her father 41
Lizzie Borden took an axe
And gave her mother 40 whacks
When she saw what she had done
She gave her father 41

Lizzie Borden took an axe
And gave her mother 40 whacks
When she saw what she had done
She gave her father 41