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A single jester stood amid the crowd,
“Come one come all!
Young and old, bring your hound.
Come and watch the guillotine fall.
Our darling Jezebel has been to proud.”

a crowd formed, and lingered 'round the block.
As the guilty rose and proceeded to hell.
A ripple of noise, a trickle of shock.
The guilty girl was only twelve,
ragged and young in her dirty smock.
Never knowing a house with full shelves.

She'd found a way to pay the rent.
On the corner of main street.
To home word she sent.
She finally had shoes on her dirty feet.
“It's a city just south of Kent.
Every morning, I get a full nights sleep.“

The executioner pushed her to her knees.
She had the dignity to fall on her own.
She sent to heaven no pleas.
She knew God used her to show
Every life given can be seized.
She just wanted to be back at home.

She laid her head upon the carved tree,
Simply stretched out her neck,
whispered her prayers, kissed the rosary.
Her life had since that day in Kent, been a wreck.
“Tell my brother I love him, just from me.”
She asked as her head hit the deck.

She flung her arms wide open,
giving consent for God to have His way,
being the good Christian,
to the end, she'd always say,
“I'll walk with Him, home in Eden.”
Every night, as she loved, she prayed.

And the guillotine fell.