The Only Thing That's Holding Him Back Is A Thin Cord With You On The End Of It.
Hello, I'm Charlie. I'm depressed
Banged up because my mouth confessed
To things I'd never said or done.
I'm on remand. It isn't fun.
There's one who...Sir, this place is grim;
I think that I may swing for him.
Good afternoon. Your number's scrawled
Beside the 'phone, that's why we called.
Some years ago we caught a train,
Played cards wrong, weren't set free again.
The deck was stacked with bomber-prints.
It's judges, Sir, we can't convince.
We beg your pardon. We have tried
Not to threaten suicide.
We would not wish to atrophy
Police morale by walking free,
But Spencer shot the paper-boy,
And someone nobbled Pat Molloy.
Good evening. I am grateful to
The folk who put me on to you.
My friend went on a shooting spree,
Before which they'd arrested me...
Bad line? The bag, Sir, round my head.
I'm Derek Bentley, and I'm dead.