He's A-Staring
(lyrics and music copyright  (C)  1984 by Ernest Clark)


You see him there walking, a dull pimply face,
Eyes just a-staring, at some other place,
And the townspeople shudder, and give him some space,
For they've all heard why he's a-staring!


He once lived at home, at the edge of the town,
Polite and obedient, never a frown
From his mammy or pappy, until they were found
At home in their bed mutilated.


The laws knew their suspect, they hauled the boy in,
In spite of his horror, the tears on his chin,
And we knew he'd be hanging for killing his kin,
'til a widow was found chopped to pieces.


'Twas the same hand as done it, 'twas plain there to see,
The boy still a prisoner, it just couldn't be,
He couldn't have done it, they let him go free,
To where else but home lying empty?


Thunder and lightning, a storm came that night,
And neighbors heard screaming, a terrible fight,
It stopped when the lawmen aimed in their bright light,
And the boy was alive, but bleeding.


He'd fought and he'd struggled, 'twas plain to be seen,
Surviving his battle with something unclean,
For the blood on the knife in his hand was bright green,
And since, not a word has he spoken.


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