He was such a lonely man; his cell was cold and drear--
The winter sky shown through the bars and he knew his time was near.
The judge had said that he must die; what day he did not know--
But, the guards would take him to his death, at the fall of the very first snow.
He was not afraid to die; his peace with God was made--
He owed his life for a wrong he'd done and he longed to get his debt paid.
The days just seemed to never end; time had never passed by so slow--
And he pleaded with God to take him, before the fall of the very first snow.
Then a snowflake slowly drifted through his window overhead--
And silently it melted there on the sleeping convict's bed.
Then a guard came rushing into his cell and excitedly he cried--
''Wake up, convict, your time has come''...But, the convict had already died.
Well the news it spread o'er the countryside and everybody asked, ''Why?''
For, the convict had robbed each one of them, of the priviledge to watch him die.
Not one of them could understand, what you and I both know--
That the convict died a free man's death, at the fall of the very first snow.