Prison Story

Words/Music: Don de Leaumont

It's Christmas Eve, and the snow is fallen down.

At least that's what I heard the guards say.

Their eyes fixed upon me as they carry on and smile,

at a man, facing his final day.

What makes a man, loose his very soul

and take from on, his very life.

It was my jealous heart as I smelled him on her hands

and met him with the corner of my knife.

    As I sit here in this cell is Stockbridge, Georgia.

    A long way from my home in Chapel Hill.

    I've ended up just another prison story,

    not regretting the man I had to kill.

I can hear the priest coming down the walkway.

He tells me God will understand.

I asked what kind of God would ever make a woman

seek comfort in the arms of another man.

Whey they come to take me bound in all my shackles

and fit me with that dreaded electric crown.

Whey they pull the curtains for eyes to gaze upon me,

will I look up and see you crying there?

    As I sit here in this cell is Stockbridge, Georgia.

    A long way from my home in Chapel Hill.

    I've ended up just another prison story,

    not regretting the man I had to kill.