The woman who murdered black satin

Cursed is he who hangs from a tree. 
But what of she?
She who had enough of her lover. 
She who had enough of he.
She, prone to the madness of the moon.
She, with gunpowder and will
The will to be free - one way or the other.
Rough and ready
The snuff of light
The thumping of the floorboards
And my the Lord now have mercy on her soul.