He removes the sign over the door 'Public Executioner'
His services are no required. 'lt's time my friend that you retired'
His eye has dulled as for his hands.
. 'The post calls for a younger man'
He takes one last look round the
square and the scaffold he erected there
Thirteen years have turned their back on you
Thirteen years and this life is all he knew
The axe he proudly ground so fine, the gibbet built to his design
The mirrored blade in which he'd shaved, the kindest cut he ever gave