From the recording Gypsy Wagon Man
Am F G Am
She kept it in a wooden box, silk wrapped all around.
It was long and sharp and deadly. Scabbard leather bound.
The handle showed the likeness of Heaven’s only loss.
There she wrapped her dainty hand around Jesus on the cross.
She got it from her uncle, who knew Darin’s family well.
But where he got that rapier, he would never tell.
It did not take that long for Darin to show his colors true.
Her broken arm and bruises would be paid for very soon.
Will it give her redemption?
Will it return what she’d lost?
It felt so good to put her hand around
F E Am
Jesus on the Cross, on the cross.
That Chartreuse was hard to come by, 114 proof.
But Darin never resisted liqueur. That was God’s own truth.
She would spend the evening across the way, for her alibi.
That Chartreuse was on the mantle. It was pleasing to her eye.
Darin looked at the Chartreuse, but he must’ve been thinking ale.
Cause he drained that bottle dry. Started walking like in a gale.
He wasn’t even poisoned, but he thought he heard her laugh.
He somehow knew that this night would be his very last.
He passes out on the floor at midnight. No one was around.
She came home and got that box and threw the scabbard down.
She held her savior high. Forgiveness she did ask.
But she did not even hesitate. Now she was safe at last.
Her screams told the whole story. She didn’t have to lie.
Everyone thought it was a shame the way Darin died.
Now she was a widow. Everyone was so nice.
But her uncle took the box back and kissed her forehead twice.
Words and Music by David B. Hakan
© 2017 All Rights Reserved 6-28-2017