The Ballad of Mary Turner

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Danny Broyles

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Mary was a mother and the wife of a man named Hayes
Raising sons and daughters with another on its way when
The mob got Mr. Turner on his way with Sheriff Wade
It's a long way down this bottomless hole

Hampton Smith was murdered by a "slave by another name"
Shot by Sidney Johnson after Hampton beat him shameless
Fifty years of "freedom" and yet the world had barely changed
It's a long way down this bottomless hole

Turner once had quarrelled over Smith's plantation cane
After Smith was murdered the associations were made
He left Valdosta one day but to Quitman he never came
As the lights died down on Troupeville Road

Here as the sun washes over your face if only for a little while
There we were once in the madness
Over the way there's a wife filled with sadness

The white men were relentless in pursuit of what they craved
"Justice in the highest!" and to "Show those spooks their place!"
Misters Head and Thompson with their bodies on display
As the sun went down on Troupeville Road

Devastated Mary drew her scorn like a rusty blade
Accusations carried while her husband's body hanged
She cried aloud for justice for the thirteen people blamed
As the mob closed in around her home

Here as the sun washes over your face if only for a little while
There as we basked in the madness
Dark in the moonlight a child filled with sadness

Mary tried to vanish but on Sunday she'd be made
"Teach that bitch a lesson!" and they hanged her by her ankles
Soaked in gas -- ignited -- as her tortured screams gave way
Then they shot her in their church-worn clothes

Her belly was cut open and out came her unborn babe
With a feeble cry it fell out and before it could be saved
Its head was stomped and crushed in, then buried in an unmarked grave
Along with Mary and her bullets and bones

Here as the stained glass colors your face if only for a little while
There now we stand in this madness
When over the frame there's a world filled with sadness and shame

"THE FURY OF THE PEOPLE," it was written, "IS UNRESTRAINED!"
The sun went down on Folsom Bridge but the memory remains
And now a century later there's a blood debt still unpaid
It's a long way down this bottomless hole

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