They carried him through the street,
Stripped him naked head to the feet,
Bayed for the blood of the orphan boy,
So blind to deceit, so blind to the ploy.
Mob thrashing on the word of a girl,
And a boy, his body folded to a curl,
Pleading to the hearts of a mad crowd,
His cries deafened by a noise so loud.
Kicks and punches to a body so frail ,
They bled him until he turned pale,
His ribs punctured through his lungs,
He fell to the venom of their tongues.
It was too late when the priest came,
Too late for the little girl's new claim,
Late for her to say mother said to say,
And I didn't mean for it to go this way.
As the boy faded in the priest's arms,
A boy raised with nothing but alms,
He looked at him and said Father, please,
For one last time, put me on my knees.
Then take my body to the city square,
Take my body and lay it down there,
And let them see what they have done,
Let them see what they have done.