Ballad of James Monk
My
mom told me that her mom would sing a lullaby to her children about the first
murder in Clearfield County, PA. I think these are the lyrics, but I've
never found a tune.
Come
all ye good people,
Who
now have to view
This
sad and shameful death,
I have
brought myself unto;
I
pray you all take warning
By
my unhappy fate,
And
shun vice and folly
Before
it is too late.
Chorus-
Alas, I am undone.
In
the county of Centre
I drew
my first breath,
And
in that same county
I meet
my shameful death;
Had
I obeyed the counsel
My
parents gave to me,
I would
not have to suffer
Upon
this shameful tree.
I hope
you will remember .
James
Monks is my name,
This
day I confess
To
my sorrow and shame,
That
I shot Reuben Giles,
Whom
I never saw before,
And
left his body weltering
In
its purple gore.
I
hunted in Clearfield
In
Eighteen-Seventeen
Around
the head of Stump Creek
Where
I had often been,
And
while on my way homeward,
On
Anderson Creek hill,
I stopped
to drink and gamble,
Like
many men do still.
I left
the stone tavern
In
anger at two men
For
cheating me in gambling,
At
least I thought so then,
And
walked off in the twilight
With
evil thoughts astir,
And
soon I met a stranger
Who
said, "Good evening. sir."
Just
after I passed him,
The
thought occurred to me
To
kill him for his money,
There
is no one here to see;
And,
without further thinking.
As
if from hell inspired,
I turned-took
down my rifle-
And
in a moment fired.
I
now caught his horse
And
tied him to a tree,
Then
hastened to my victim,
Who
faintly said to me,
“My
friend, you have killed me.”
But
all I would reply
Was
quickly to go to him
Resolved
that he must die.
The
devil so possessed me,
Before
he was quite dead,
With
my tom'hawk I gave him
Two
blows upon the head;
Then
dragged him off a distance,
And
stripped him of his cloth "
And
like a savage left him
To
wild beasts exposed.
In
trying on his shoes,
I
found they were too small,
I cut
them in the instep,
And
let my penknife fall;
This
knife and an old song book,
Left
here as by design,
And
with his ball-pierced clothing,
Betrayed
this deed of mine.
His
horse and saddle bags,
They
now became my prey,
His
watch and pocketbook,
I also
took away,
Then
covered up his body
With
leaves and rotten wood
Some
distance from the roadside,
Where
once a tree had stood.
I
threw his hat away
Before
I rode a mile,
Then
rode on toward Karthaus,
Pursuers
to beguile,
And
early the next morning
I viewed
my bloody store,
And
thought I could conceal
This,
my gun, forevermore.
I hid
his bloody shirt
In
the trunk of a tree,
But
this too was found
And
produced against me;
To
show that private murder
Would
never be concealed,
A dog
told the secret,
And
the whole was revealed.
I
tried to plead "Not guilty,"
My
lawyers did their best,
But
proof on proof appeared,
And
guilt rankled in my breast;
His
bones too were produced
And
presented at my trial,
And
this last shocking proof
Would
admit of no denial.
One
more thing I'll mention
Before
I'm done with time;
Some
blamed Andrew Allison
For
this, my cruel crime;
But
since I am to suffer,
To
tell a lie, I scorn,
He's
innocent as the infant
Or
the child yet unborn.
Labels: Family
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