First published in August/September, 2008, Volume 5, Issue 3, The Hatchet: Journal of Lizzie Borden Studies.

Mrs. Chruchill, please do come

afraid Father’s met his doom———-

He quivers like a bow

in the morgue sitting room,

life’s leaving him real slow

upon a horsehair tomb.

Dr. Bowen, please do come

though I fear there is no need———-

Afraid he may be dead

what a dastardly deed,

blows to the head

leaving Father to bleed.

Maggie, please do come

were the windows all a chore?———-

Killers are all about

lock the back screen door,

not a moan or a shout

what’s that thump upon the floor?

Miss Russell, please do come

some coffee, or tea instead?———-

Just burning this old dress

that’s been soiled painted red,

from a chop I should confess

that rendered them both dead.

Emma, please do come

our whims we will fulfill———-

Do return without delay

since they both are laying still,

all our aches have bled away

now we both will have our will.