The Rumjacks - Lizzie Borden lyrics

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 gatherеd quotes and filled their totеs
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