Comments about Mary Naylor
Die, Killer, Die
A red veil was floating around the killer's head,
and his face was a cold, hard, mask.
He entered the execution chamber
and they strapped him to the chair.
They lowered the cap to his bare,
shaved skull. Out in the yard you could hear
the demonstrator's call and cry, Die, Killer, Die There were a few quiet sobs, a few shudders and gasps,
but mostly there was a fireball of rage burning inside,
and a red mist hanging over hard, hard, eyes.