Mary Jane Kelly
I have a story to tell,
because everyone loves a good story,
about a certain murderer
that was aptly named
Jack the Ripper.
Now forget everything you've ever heard
and forget everything you've ever read,
because only I know the truth
of all those murders
that happened years ago.
You might ask, "how so?"
Well that's because
on those nights, years ago,
I was at those murders
listening to my victims scream "no!"
First was Mary Ann Nichols,
a small, dainty lass.
She was awfully easy to handle
and hardly even thrashed,
but she was only a test,
one I didn't care for at all.
I slashed her throat (twice)
and cut a little here and there
but I got bored so quickly
and moved her body elsewhere.
Next came Annie Chapman,
and I went a little crazy with her,
but that's because she was a nasty old bitch
who I hated with a passion,
always coming my way
and trying to take my men.
So I slashed her throat, but only once,
and to make it a little more fair
I threw a little bit of her around
and this time was a little more fun.
Then was Elizabeth Stride,
who go off much too easy –
that murder got interrupted
with only a cut to her throat,
that lucky little liar.
Right after came Catherine Eddowes
just getting done with a customer
and the drunken bitch
who was using my name
giving it to the cops.
I was already pissed at be cut short,
so I took my anger out on her.
A slash to her throat and some to her face,
I think I'll take a kidney (maybe some of this too!)
as a pretty parting gift, from me to you.
Last was myself.
I wanted to cover my tracks.
Aberline was getting too close,
so I picked up Mary Jeanette Kelly,
my twin in all but blood.
Overkill, most would say,
but it was just one last kill.
So I slashed and I cut and I didn't stop
until she no longer looked like anything anymore,
but I took her heart to remember her by.
And that my friends
is the truth of the story
of Jack the Ripper,
the alias and legend
I left behind.