My name is Donald White, you see,
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I stand before you all.
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I was judged by you a murderer
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And the hangman's knot must fall.
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I will die upon the gallows pole
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When the moon is shining clear,
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And these are my final words
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That you will ever hear.
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I left my home in Kansas
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When I was very young,
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I landed in the old Northwest,
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Seattle, Washington
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Although I'd a-traveled many miles,
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I never made a friend,
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For I could never get along in life
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With people that I met.
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If I had some education
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To give me a decent start,
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I might have been a doctor or
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A master in the arts.
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But I used my hands for stealing
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When I was very young,
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And they locked me down in jailhouse cells,
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That's how my life begun.
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Oh, the inmates and the prisoners,
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I found they were my kind,
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And it was there inside the bars
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I found my peace of mind.
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But the jails they were too crowded,
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Institutions overflowed,
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So they turned me loose to walk upon
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Life's hurried tangled road.
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And there's danger on the ocean
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Where the salt sea waves split high,
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And there's danger on the battlefield
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Where the shells of bullets fly,
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And there's danger in this open world
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Where men strive to be free,
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And for me the greatest danger
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Was in society.
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So I asked them to send me back
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To the institution home.
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But they said they were too crowded,
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For me they had no room.
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I got down on my knees and begged,
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"Oh, please put me away,"
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But they would not listen to my plea
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Or nothing I would say.
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And so it was on Christmas eve
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In the year of '59,
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It was on that night I killed a man,
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I did not try to hide,
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The jury found me guilty
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And I won't disagree,
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For I knew that it would happen
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If I wasn't put away.
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And I'm glad I've had no parents
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To care for me or cry,
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For now they will never know
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The horrible death I die.
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And I'm also glad I've had no friends
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To see me in disgrace,
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For they'll never see that hangman's hood
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Wrap around my face.
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Farewell unto the old north woods
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Of which I used to roam,
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Farewell unto the crowded bars
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Of which've been my home,
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Farewell to all you people
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Who think the worst of me,
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I guess you'll feel much better when
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I'm on that hanging tree.
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But there's just one question
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Before they kill me dead,
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I'm wondering just how much
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To you I really said
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Concerning all the boys that come
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Down a road like me,
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Are they enemies or victims
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Of your society?
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-----------------
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Ballad Of Donald White
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| Bob Dylan |
