Jolly Jane

Jolly Jane killed just for fun,
Jolly Jane killed thirty-one,
Jolly Jane loved every one.

No honor left, she’ll smother you with praise,
The perfect pretense: patient nightingale.
She’ll hold you close and diddle as she slays.

She spurns her foster sister but obeys.
She’ll gain the top and kill but leave no trail.
No honor left, she’ll smother you with praise.

The landlords are demanding that she pays.
An overdose of morphine will not fail.
She’ll hold you close and diddle as she slays.

Poor sister’s gone, but husband just delays,
Prays someday she’ll be bloating up in jail.
No honor left, she’ll smother you with praise.

Exhume the bodies, puzzle out her ways
Of morphine and of atropine, betrayal.
She’ll hold you close and diddle as she slays.

She’ll put you down, then wake you from your haze
To flaunt her might while you laze deathly pale.
No honor left, she’ll smother you with praise.
She’ll hold you close and diddle as she slays.

Ω

Editor’s Corner

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