A tale of savagery, and murder. |
In St. Vincent dwelt a man whose story must be told For as in darkness fables can grow icy, black and cold The night was glass, clouds in veil the moon was full and near Far off held a shuddered tale of screams no one could hear Found at dawn, a broken death slaughtered in the wild To the air and wind she left a husband and a child Fear and rumors rose about a monster cruel and distant Named for evil in their town The Butcher of St. Vincent Months had past, seasons changed the carnage had suspended Then continued bloodshed came as if it had not ended A son avowed this craven deed pride taken in the truth A curse raised, the masses freed by hold the hangman's noose Alas there was no respite still the pogrom did not cease Another felt the want to kill with savagery and increase A second caught with bloodied hands his crimes and wrongs indignant Abashed they chose to dub again The Butcher of St. Vincent Tranquility and solace paid the worse had come and passed Gallows brought the killer's reign to a remnant not to last But last it did, when time would tell of terror to ensue And yet again a victim fell to the blade of someone new One by one, the guilty came confessions of their share On and on, they found the slain in endless severed fare To this day, a cryptic cry in hidden malediction As their horrid myths surmise The Butchers of St. Vincent |