In 1897 down in Marshallville. The man John Brown was running town and the law was dead and still. John rode in on the third of May, twelve men by his side. They shot the sheriff and they hung the judge before the day had turned to night. By the fifth of May news had spread. Word finally got around to Darcy Flinn the Reverend whos' wife lay in the ground. Two years ago on a snowy night Darcy's wife was home alone. He returned to find his house was burned and his love lie cold as stone. He knelt by the ashes. Something out of place. A knife stuck down in the ground, John Brown was engraved. After two long years of waiting, the knife clutched in his hand. He crossed the hill toward Marshallville a changed and broken man. He seeks the kind of justice that a Reverend shouldn't give. Cause on this day, Brown would pay for the wages of his sin. Story goes at day's end, Brown lay in the street. A dozen men as dead as him and his knife lay at his feet. Through the years no one heard more frome the Reverend. John Brown was killed in Marshallville and he won't be back again.