Lizzie Borden Limericks

by Sherry Chapman

First published in April/May, 2004, Volume 1, Issue 2, The Hatchet: Journal of Lizzie Borden Studies.

There once was a girl from Fall River
Who cared only what her parents could give her.
Her arms were quite built
And she killed without guilt
But she regretted getting a sliver.

Lizzie Borden lived up on The Hill
And one day she became very ill
The doctor she told
It was only a cold
But she died when he sent her the bill.
(Still Andrew’s daughter…)

One day God gave Lizzie a call
And said, “Come with me.  Leave it all.”
“No money or stocks?”
“Nor old broken locks?”
‘Twas no wonder she died from her gall.

‘Twas ‘93, if my memory ain’t blurry
When the trial ended and out went the jury.
An hour they acted busy
Because like Lizzie
They did not do things in a hurry.

Andrew attempted to pluck
An object from the ground that was stuck.
“Is this a rock?”
“Or and old broken lock.”
“Who knows, it may bring me good luck.”

Lizzie sat at the table quite blue
Her mutton smelled like a shoe.
She smiled so sweetly
Asked her Father quite meekly
“Would you like my small portion, too?” 

“Daughter, this mutton is only Day Three,
You know we eat meat until green.”
“I thought you’d be glad
For an offer not bad,
To get some more food for free.”

“Little Abby, you tell big, tall tales.
I killed no cat, and there were no wails.”
“Can I have a toy?”
She asked with joy.
“Yes, you may play with this jar of nails.”

“I gave Lizzie away in the jail
When she arrived in Taunton by rail.
She had baked beans for lunch
And I just had a hunch
That ‘that noise’ had come from her tail.”

Abby Borden did not die
At least not as the cops said why.
If I’d had nuttin’
But four days of muttin’
I’d wish that the dead was I.