Cycling Adventures Gibbet Hill Culture

Three sailors to the "Road Lane" came,
Lonegan, Marshall and Casey by name:
They told a tale they were quite hard up,
'Twas long since they had bit or sup.
And they walked all night and day,
Yet Portsmouth Town was miles away.
Another Sailor came along.
A smart young tar, his name unknown.
Said "Cheer up mates, don't be cast down,
For I'm going home to Portsmouth Town.
As you have no cash the charge to meet
I've a shot in my locker, and I'll stand treat."
He treated them with a right good will.
And they went together on Hindhead Hill.

They reached the Hindhead Hills at last:
Amidst the heath and purple grass,
That lad's blood, more purple real.,
Soon was flowing down the Hindhead Hill
Lonegan and Casey used the knife. Marshall begged them to spare his life.
But his prayer did not avail,-
That is as Marshall told the tale.
The deed was done! They dragged along
The body in "The Punch Bowl" flung.
The knife was cleaned, the stain wiped out.
They thought all trace removed, no doubt;
And long before the body found

They'd be at sea, and outward bound

But vengeance soon was on their track,
And quickly brought the murderers back:
A shepherd chanced that way to stray
And saw the murdered sailor lay,
He went for help and gave alarms,
When all the country people arms
And follows in the villains wake,
They reached "The Flying Bull", at Rake,
The law's strong guardian soon was there,
And brought them back to Hazelmere.
When justice sat and law was read -
"Condemn them to be hung till dead".

Place in chains and there close by
The London Road to be hung on high.
Where travellers by coach or van
All hear the tale of the murdered man,
As they near the gibbet tree -
A sight more loathsome none could see.
Hanging there both night and day,
Till piece by piece they dropped away;
And on the spot where the foul deed was done,
Can now be seen by everyone;
And on that spot the travellers know
No heath nor grass doth ever grow.