From "John Wesley Harding"
"Oh,[G] help me in my weakness,"
I heard the[C/g] drifter[G] say,
As they[G] carried him from the courtroom
And were taking[C/G] him a[G]way.
"My[G] trip hasn't been a pleasant one
And my time it[C/g] isn't long,
And I[G] still do not know
What it was that[C/g] I've done[G] wrong."
Well, the[G] judge, he cast his robe aside,
A tear came[C/g] to his[G] eye,
"You[G] fail to understand," he said,
"Why must you[C/g] even[G] try?"
[G]Outside, the crowd was stirring,
You could hear it[C/g] from the[G] door.
In[G]side, the judge was stepping down,
While the jury[C/g] cried for[G] more.
"Oh,[G] stop that cursed jury,"
Cried the attendant[C/g] and the[G] nurse,
"The[G] trial was bad enough,
But this is[C/g] ten times[G] worse."
Just[G] then a bolt of lightning
Struck the courthouse[C/g] out of[G] shape,
And while[G] ev'rybody knelt to pray
The drifter[C/g] did es[G]cape.
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