I will soon post in the other sections, but my heart is guiding me right now over my head. I'm feeling this case more than thinking it. Have patience with this artsy-fartsy scribe.


We Cannot Sleep...

We cannot sleep,
For you will not cry,
Dear Ripperologist men,
Isn't it 'bout time you try?

You hunt and peck,
For bits 'n' bobs,
For Jack the Man, himself,
Amid your endless suspect mobs.

T'was 134 years,
Such a long time ago,
Shouldn't you lay us down,
Shouldn't you let us go?

You up above,
Our moulding ground,
Allow us girls our eternal rest,
No more facts need be found.

We know you mean well,
We know your need to protect us,
But long ago we flew to God,
Dear men, no longer weep,
We've had our justice.

Let Jack the Man finally rest, too,
T'was a bestial time,
Of hunger, fear and want,
He knew not what he do.

Our skin is fair,
Long gone those slashing folds,
Our togs are fine,
No more clotted blood do they hold.

Once more we smile,
And wink and again so jolly laugh,
Our hearts bleed for you now,
You men of the forever Ripper task.

Lay down your papers,
Please file those sheets,
Sit back and smile,
Remember us now as forever sweet.

Let us no more fight for answers,
Or debate the facts,
Alas grieve and mourn,
Your handful of women,
That is your divine ask.

Rest well up above,
Down below, please let us do,
Your hand, your kiss,
Your loving touch,
Will better hold the answers for you.

The horror of Whitechapel,
Was a long ago affair,
No more seek for us,
Dear seeking men,
For when Christ Church bells toll,
We'll feel your undying care.