by Robert Crawford
"You'll be alright for what I've told you."- Words By which to live a wholesome, happy life. I wasn't always like this, do you know? The woman of the hour, or the queen Of the four penny knee trembler, Back alley lover and the scourge of love. You get the message, eh? In my home county (It's unimportant which), my father found I'd loved a lad so deeply, with a slap Across my foolish face I landed here In Miller's Court, in Jolly Olde. You've heard This story countless times while traveling, I'd wager, from the countless girls like me Soliciting for custom in the fog. Oh dear, somewhere in mischief I had lost My kerchief. There's a dear, I'm much obliged... A red one! 'Ey, bloke, are you tryin' to tell Me something that I'm better off not knowin'? Let's get a move on, love, 'cause, as they say, The Ripper lurks about behind each lamp. Those girls! You wouldn't do that to me, would You, love? No, you've too much a gentle face, And I don't think you'd ever have the heart. Say, since you're feeling generous tonight, Would you mind tossing in an extra ha' Penny or two for an expectant mum? I guess that I'm three months along or so. I haven't seen a doctor, yet- Who can Afford to take in physic, nowadays? I don't know what I'll name it, boy or girl. But I'll admit I haven't given it Much thought, with all my cares to worry of. Me rent's long overdue, M'Carthy's (He's The landlord) breathing down me neck For 30 shillings that he claims I owe. Can you imagine, 30 shillings for A hovel as this, even for a year? For thirty silver pieces, he betrays Me and me child, much like another lass Named Mary's child. But still, I shouldn't be Too hard on the old bastard, as he throws Some custom my way every while or so. Don't mind the broken window, love, the heat Thrown out the grate just pushes out the draft Where it belongs. If only evil were As easily intimidated. Make Yourself as comfortable as possible- I promised you that much, at least. Right where You're standing, at the door, is where my friend Had stood today when I told her before She left, "Be good, and don't turn out to be As I have." Why are you still loitering Beside the door? You're acting as if this Is your first time. This is your fifth, you say? Well, in Whitechapel, that's as close as one Can get to sainthood. What's in the valise? You won't need toys with me, my dear. A knife...! Oh, Lord, it's *you*. Oh murder...!