And I must die upon the gallows,
A wicked and degraded man.
Farewell, vain world, I now must leave you,
Farewell, my friends and neighbours all,
Around Forest Hill no more you’ll see me,
The hangman’s voice on me does call;
Saying, Richard Bishop, now be ready,
To die upon the fatal tree,
Oh, aged only one and twenty,
What a dreadful sight to see.