They came for him one winter's night.
Arrested, he was bound.
They said ther'd been a robbery,
his psitol had been found.
They marched him to the station house,
he waited for the dawn.
And as they led him to the dock,
he knew that he'd been wronged.
"You stand accused of robbery",
he heard the bailiff say.
He knew without an alibi,
tomorrow's light would mourn his freedom.
Over the hills and far away,
for ten long years he'll count the days.
Over the mountains and the seas,
a prisoner's life for him there'll be.