The Snowball Murder

It fell one December, the early shift done, four miners met up in the lane.
The dark clouds above fought a watery sun as they left to go poaching again.
Across the bleak marsh land soon far out of sight, to the edge of the forest they went
Taking their prey in the fast fading light, til every last minute was spent.

They trudged their way homeward as the night air turned still and the first flakes of snow drifted down.
Their thoughts turned from hunting to drinking their fill by the fireside with friends gathered round.
The Gate Inn shone out like a beacon ahead, soon they were there at the bar
Telling tales, laughing at all that was said, toasting their day in the carr.

When closing time beckoned a blizzard had called and the path now lay deep under snow.
William Wood squatted to make a snowball and joked as he started to throw.
"Stop heaving and clotting or I'll fire no doubt", George Hunter's voice echoed around
But William continued, a gunshot rang out and his blood stained the white winter ground.

All Dinnington mourned the sad loss of young Wood, George Hunter was taken away.
At the local assizes the wretched man stood, convicted of murder that day.
When spring came to Morpeth, he was held in the tower, waiting to take his last breath
As the prison bell sounded to signal the hour, William Marwood dropped him to his death.

( the murder took place in Northumberland in 1875 )