The Hangman’s Swan Song

By Thomas Williams

The hangman smiled at the cheering crowd. His crowd. He recognised familiar faces, whole families who would trek across London’s muddy cobbles each time the scaffold was erected. When he caught his wife’s eye, he puffed out his chest and stood as straight as the Tyburn tree.

Even though he was flanked by twelve others on the gallows, they were all there for him. Thousands of them.

Familiar with the routine, he listened intently to the final speeches of the condemned. When it was his turn to speak, he paused before proclaiming, “’Tis coarser on the neck than in the hand.”