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(Adapted from Paul Laurence Dunbar)

So bare, so bare, is the old oak tree;
so bare, is the old oak tree.
It's dried and dead; it’s burned with dread.
where a guiltless man swung free.
And when I go through the shade it throws,
a shudder runs over me.

They charged him with the old, old crime.
They set him fast in their jail.
How the dogs howl all night long,
and how the night wind wails.

The judge wore a mask of black;
the doctor wore one of white.
The minister brought his oldest son
to witness justice that night.

They ride, they ride, over a moonlit road;
they're haulin’ a shameful load.
Their rope is long; their minds are wrong,
and the lies they tell are bold.
Laughter low in lying throats,
and their hearts are moonlight cold.

He prayed his prayer, he swore his oath
he raised his hand to the sky.
Before that night took its last breath
a guiltless man did fly.

They left only the tree to hear his last sigh,
to shake with his gurgling moan,
to tremble as they rode on by
and left him a-swingin’ alone.

So bare, so bare is the old oak tree;
so bare is the old oak tree.
It's dried and dead; it’s burned with dread
where a guiltless man swung free.
And when I go through the shade it throws,
a shudder runs over me.

The rope runs against the moonlit trunk;
it creaks under the strain.
In the final throe of an innocent's woe
the tree feels its own last pain.

Dead man, free man, I promise you now
that after little a little space,
time will come when these men shall dread
the mem'ry of your face.

So bare, so bare is the old oak tree;
so bare is the old oak tree.
It's dried and dead; it’s burned with dread
where a guiltless man swung free
from the bough of a haunted tree.
And when I go through the shade it throws,
a shudder runs over me.