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.