Now the bell tolls, as the sun sinking fast And the night growing chill, and the shadows hold still Where a lone star looks down, on his grey paled face And we say goodbye, to poor Henry The bell tolls its last, the sun sinking fast And soon he'll be cold, will poor Henry The crowd gone away, no more fun for today And how soon they'll forget about Henry Henry swings from the Tyburn Tree The crow will soon come to set his soul free Swing on the tree, swing on the tree Till the crow takes his soul and his spirit flies free All the birds stopped their singing As the rope went a swinging, and the church bell was ringing its toll For one that's so young, and now dead and gone And the world will move on from poor Henry Henry swings from the Tyburn Tree The crow will soon come to set his soul free Swing on the tree, swing on the tree Till the crow takes his soul and his spirit flies free A mother will weep, and she'll stay by his side Until he's cut down, poor Henry Henry swings from the Tyburn Tree The crow will soon come to set his soul free Swing on the tree, swing on the tree Till the crow takes his soul and his spirit flies free