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He rode
into town in the back of a truck,
A man on a mission, who, hoping with luck,
Would find the young zealots who murdered his
Dad,
And vowed he'd take vengeance with all that he
had.
Was late
in the evening, and chores had been done,
He'd gone to the bedroom to tuck in his son,
His father was sitting there, out on the porch,
When Klansmen came 'round with a cross and a
torch.
Without
any feelings, they shot the man dead,
They lit up the cross and then watched as he
bled,
A small band of cowards, they started to run,
When out of the door came the shots of a
gun.
He rode
into town in the back of a truck,
To look for those Klansmen, who, running amuck,
Had caused so much heartache and caused so much
pain,
The ones who found pleasure when someone was
slain.
He found
them encamped on the side of a hill,
The look on their faces, it gave him a chill,
The sight of pure evil is all he could see,
There, hid in the bushes behind a large
tree.
He cried
to the wind and to God up above,
Who spoke to the mountain and gave it a shove,
As boulders rained down like a God-given sign,
He heard a loud voice, saying "VENGEANCE IS
MINE!"
Now all
is so quiet, and all is so still,
No more will those Klansmen be able to kill,
The only voice now is the sound of the wind,
Like tormented souls of the ones who had
sinned.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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