John Horwood's Lament
In 2010, Mrs Halliwell, whilst researching her family tree discovered that one of her relatives had been unjustly hanged for murder. Furthermore she discovered that his skeleton was still being stored in an old cupboard in the University of Bristol. She arranged for a Christian burial which was performed 190 years after his death. The song is written in the first person and narrates the injustice which befell John Horwood and his family. The last four lines of the song are from a poem written by John Horwood himself as he languished in his prison cell, awaiting execution.
When I threw that pebble I was pleased to hear you scream
It hit you on the head and you fell into the stream
You shouldn’t have betrayed me you knew my love was true
It was too much to take when I saw him kissing you
But seven days later, dear Eliza died
It was my pebble that killed her Doctor Smith lied
But some say it was the drilling of a hole into her head
By that evil doctor that left her lying dead
Doctor Smith was my accuser, my prosecutor too
He was also the main witness and swore his evidence was true
To make matters worse I had foolishly confessed
In my one day trial in Bedminster they sentenced me to death
They hanged me to death at New Bristol Gaol
I saw my mother looking on - her face was ghostly pale
Both others just jeered and cheered at the sound
Of the rope snapping tight as my body fell down
Doctor Smith claimed my body and took it for research
Despite my family pleading for a burial in church
His dissection was meticulous with precision and great care
But the wicked butcher gave no thought to my relative’s despair
The report was bound in leather tanned from my flayed skin
Inlaid with skulls and crossbones at that baneful doctors whim
And my skeleton still with the rope around it’s neck
Stood in his Bristol home as a trophy there he’d kept
Dear Mrs Halliwell you’re one of the best
Almost two hundred years later they’ve laid me to rest
Fifty mourners by my graveside as they lowered me down
My name is on the gravestone I’m an innocent man
John Horwood is my wretched name and Hanham gave me birth.
My previous time has been employed in rioting and mirth.
Eliza, oh Eliza dear! Thy spirit, oh, is fled!
And thy poor mangled body lies now numbered with the dead