Benjamin Deane
(by Joe Scott, 1898)
Good people all, both great and small, read these lines penned by me
These lines were written by a man deprived of liberty
Who is serving out a sentence for a deed that I have done
And it’s here I fear I will remain till my race on earth is run
She was born of good parents and they reared her tenderly
Was little did they ever think that she would be slain by me
The night she gave her promise and her hand to me she gave
It would have been far better for her if she lay in her grave
I soon began a wild career caused by the thirst for gold
My property on Mason Street for a goodly sum I sold
I bought a building on Main Street with cost a handsome sum
I ran a free and easy house and I took to selling run
My fair young wife soon fled with one, whose name I will not write
Whose character was blacker than the darkest hour of night
To persuade her to return to me it was my whole intent
So to the house where she then dwelt, my steps I quickly bent
I cautiously approached the house and I opened the hall door
I found the way to my wife’s room upon an upper floor
The sight that fell upon my gaze is stamped upon my mind
For on the bosom of a man, my fair wife’s head reclined
To the very fiends of hell it seemed my being did posses
I drew a loaded pistol and I aimed it at her breast
And when she saw the weapon it was loudly she did cry
For god sakes don’t shoot me for I am not fit die
The last time that I saw my wife, she lay upon the floor
Her long and light brown wavy hair was stained with crimson gore
The sun shone through the window on her cold and lifeless face
As the officers led me away from that polluted place
I have two daughters living but they’re orphans in a way
And should you chance to meet them, treat them kindly I do pray
Don’t chide them for their father’s sin, for on them there will rest
A crimson stain long after I am moldering back to dust.