Part 43

Bill Neal done what he said he would, And yet a greater sin; Then with a great big huge crowbar Broke Emma's skullbones in.

Yes, Bill Neal done just what he said, And yet that greater sin, For which the gates of Heaven closed And will not let him in.

Now while his victim is in Heaven, Where all things are done well, There with the angels glorified, Bill Neal will go to hell.

THE DEATH OF MARY PHAGAN

Leo M. Frank, manager of the pencil factory, was a Jew. Sentiment ran high against him at the time of the murder. This ballad was composed by young Bob Salyers of Cartersville, Georgia, who heard the story on all sides. He could neither read nor write.

Come listen all ye maidens, A story I'll relate Of pretty Mary Phagan And how she met her fate.

Her home was in Atlanta And so the people say, She worked in a pencil factory To earn her meager pay.

She went down to the office One April day, it's said; The next time that they saw her, Poor Mary, she was dead.

They found her outraged body-- Oh, hear the people cry-- "The fiend that murdered Mary Most surely he must die."

James Conley told the story, "'Twas Leo Frank," he said, "He strangled little Mary And left her cold and dead."

Now Frank was tried for murder, His guilt he did deny. But the jury found him guilty And sentenced him to die.

His life he paid as forfeit; And then there came a time Another man lay dying, And said he did the crime.

We do not know for certain, But in the Judgment Day, We know that God will find him And surely make him pay.

--Bob Salyers

THE FATE OF EFFIE AND RICHARD DUKE

Oh, hearken to this sad warning, You husbands who love your wife, Don't never fly in a passion And take your companion's life.

Of Doctor Rich Duke I will tell you, Who lived up Beaver Creek way, He married fair Effie Allen And loved her well, so they say.

Both Effie and Rich had money, But he was much older than she, And she said, "All your lands and money Should be deeded over to me."

His wife he loved and trusted And he hastened to obey; But the fact he soon regretted That he deeded his riches away.

They quarreled and then they parted, The times were more than three, For both of them were stubborn And they never could agree.

Now Doctor John, his brother, Was a highly respected man, He brought Effie home one evening, Saying, "Make up your quarrel if you can."

And Rich seemed glad to see her, And followed her up the stair, But only God and the angels Know just what happened there.

Doctor John was down at the table When he heard the pistol roar; He ran up the stairs in a moment And looked in at the open door.

Poor Rich lay there by his pistol With a bullet through his brain, And Effie lay there dying Writhing in mortal pain.

They were past all human succor, No earthly power could save; And they took their secrets with them To the land beyond the grave.

Now all you wives and husbands, Take heed to this warning true. Never quarrel over lands and money Or some day the fact you will rue.

--Coby Preston

THE FATE OF FLOYD COLLINS