A wooden crossOn a hillA man, a JewBetrayedHis pain lingers still The cross he draggedAs people staredHe is guiltyThey declared Outstretched armsNails cruellyDriven into palms A crown of thornsOn his headHe would sufferUntil he was dead. He died for usIn a worldOf unjustAnd mistrust He is our saviourA flame of lightForever and alwaysBurning bright Maureen…