In Reading gaol by Reading townThere is a pit of shame,
And in it lies a wretched manEaten by teeth of flame,
In a burning winding-sheet he lies,
And his grave has got no name
And there, till Christ call forth the dead,
In silence let him lie:
No need to waste the foolish tear,
Or heave the windy sigh:
And so he had to die.
And all men kill the thing they love,
By all let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
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