At Five In The Afternoon

Down in the dregs of a hundred degree fever,
She was there at five o'clock in the afternoon,

They picked him up out of the hot dust and the sand,
For him it was a very bloody afternoon,

She waited, her fever rose another degree,
In her day dreams she had dreaded this afternoon,

The people were crowded around the outer gate,
It was hot in the marketplace that afternoon,

A young man held their coats so no one knew their names,
Hiding there in the shadow of the afternoon,

They carried him away to the burying ground,
Singing songs of praise in the dirty afternoon,

Mary told her friends who were waiting for the news,
St. Stephen is dead, they killed him this afternoon.