PLEASE CONTACT ME IF YOU CAN REMEMBER WHO WROTE THIS, IT'S BEEN BUGGING ME FOR AGES!
THE BALLAD OF WILLIAM BOAT
By Raymond Calvert.
In a mean abode on the Shankill Road
Lived a man called William Boat.
He had a wife, the curse of his life,
Who continually got his goat.
So one day at dawn, with her nightdress on,
He cut her bloody throat.
With a razor gash he settled her hash,
Oh never was crime so quick,
But the steady drip on the pillow slip
Of her lifeblood made him sick,
And the pool of gore on the bedroom floor
Grew clotted cold and thick.
And yet he was glad that he'd done what he had,
When she lay there stiff and still,
But a sudden awe of the angry law
Struck his soul with an icy chill.
So to finish the fun so well begun,
He resolved himself to kill.
Then he took the sheet off his wife's cold feet,
And twisted it into a rope
And he hanged himself from the pantry shelf.
'Twas an easy end, let's hope.
In the face of death with his latest breath,
He solemnly cursed the Pope.
But the strangest turn to the whole concern
Is only just beginnin'.
He went to Hell but his wife got well,
And she's still alive and sinnin',
For the razor blade was German made,
But the sheet was Irish linen.
I found one site that had it Danish made and Dublin linen.
Wonderful! Thanks Cairan and glenda for posting it - it's made a lovely start to my day
i was wondering if anyone knew what time period this poem was written in.
[www.cs.rice.edu] /> says 1926