High on Hangmen Hill there’s a tree 
that’s dry and withered by the sun
Though it’s dead it still stands strong
like’s it’s shadow that is hung

The folks that own that land have tied 
to pull that old tree down
But the roots run too damn deep
like it’s story, it wont let go

A hundred years ago three Men died 
they hung em from that tree
The branches held them tall and proud
for all the town to see

Three Indian men with innocent blood
only quality for their pride
Their women cursed that tree
and like their spirit, it’ll never die.

High on Hangmen Hill
When the night falls it brings a chill
Sometimes you can hear em still
When the wind blows, the Widows cry
High on Hangmen Hill

High on Hangmen Hill
When the night falls it brings a chill
Sometimes you can hear em still
When the wind blows the Widows cry
High on Hangmen Hill

The folks that own that land have tied 
to pull that old tree down
But the roots run too damn deep
Like it’s story, it wont let go