The Ballad of Othello Clemence

There’s a black wind howlin’ by Whylah Falls; There’s a mad rain hammerin’ the flowers; There’s a shotgunned man moulderin’ in petals; There’s a killer chucklin’ to himself; There’s a mother keenin’ her posied son; There’s a joker amblin’ over his bones. Go down to the Sixhiboux River, hear it cry, “Othello Clemence is dead and his murderer’s free!” O sang from Whylah Falls and lived by sweat, Walked that dark road between desire and regret. He pitched lumber, crushed rock, calloused his hands: He wasn’t a saint but he was a man. Scratch Seville shot him and emptied his skull, Tore a hole in his gut only Death could fill. Now his martyr-mother witnesses in cries Over his corpse cankered white by lilies. There’s a black wind snakin’ by Whylah Falls; There’s a river of blood in Jarvis County; There’s a government that don’t know how to weep; There’s a mother who can’t get no sleep. Go down to the Sixhiboux, hear it moan Like a childless mother far, far, from home, “There’s a change that’s gonna have to come, I said, a change that’s gonna have to come.”