Deacon Brodie

Thar hangs a William Brodie
Finest man tha’ tever was
Swinging by the bridge at Tolbooth
A fitting scaffold, rope and hood.

Sworn as Deacon of cab’netry
And a builder of our town
But at night he’s another story
And that’s why we took him down.

He would enter home and business
As we welcomed of his craft
To make tables, drawers and doorways
Our abodes well built to last.

Thar he’d tinker with the lockways
And wax mold every key
And when his mistresses got hungry
He’d return at night to thieve.

He burgled banks and registries
He burgled homes and church
And when his wagers went askew
He planned to do much worse

By building up a guild, you see
Of such uncommon thieves
That neighbors would ne’er suspect,
But only one of these.

That one, John Brown, a highwayman
Felt the pressure of his deeds
And sought the good King’s Pardon
As he groveled from his knees

And as questioning and answering
Continued for a forte
The name of William Brodie
Came to ‘ttention of the court.

But William had escaped away
To America, he was bound.
We captured him in Amsterdam
Before his fare was found.

We brought him home, to Edinburgh
In shackles and in brace
And held him in our prisonry
Ware we looked him in the face

And so the master carpenter
Adjudged of evil deed
Was sentenced for his twilight life
In spite of his sorry plead.

And as he climbed the scaffold
His hand flowing up the rail
He noted every stair board,
Each support post, joint and nail

Some say he beat the lethal noose  
Fashioning a collar lined with steel
And he amply bribed the hangman
To make his death look real.

Why, some of you may know
The Deacon Brodie, now, today.
Robert Lewis transformed his likeness
He’s Dr. Jekyll now, so they say.

::::::::::::::::::::

Deacon Brodie
© 2016   Mark Pearce