The hangman exerts his needs,
Of a noose tied to a willow tree.
Hood of black and eyes are glimmering,
his voice will set your body shivering.

A fool you where to cross his way,
now you've landed on his tray.

The noose will tighten 'round your neck,
his work will leave you a twisting wreck.

You soon will add to his collection.
Your head mounted on a lonley shield,
only for his joy to wield.
You might be his next selection.