A Very Borden Christmas
Posted: Sat Dec 20, 2014 8:38 pm
With Apologies to Clement Clarke Moore and Children of All Ages Who Still Believe in the Benevolence of Santa Claus
‘Twas the night before slaughter, behind Lizzie’s door,
Murder plans in the making, despite Morse’s snore;
The hatchet was stashed at the head of her bed,
In hopes wicked step-mother soon would be dead;
Bridget was restless in her wee attic room,
Her dreams overwhelmed by a sick sense of doom;
Both parents clad for Victorian nocturnal,
Passed one final time into sleep not eternal;
At dawn on the lawn with barely a care,
Andrew emptied his slops and then slurped down a pear;
Lizzie slept not at all for the damned find no peace,
‘Til brains, blood and bones give cathartic release;
Helios beamed down on a Greek chorus rhyme,
“To murder a parent - the MOST heinous crime;
The boatman refuses your parricide’s pay,
A Shade in the mud of the Styx you will stay.”
The chorus was faint, she heard no refrain,
Twas blood lust for vengeance that roared in her brain;
Gloves, aprons and hankies - Liz covered her all,
She crept through the doors and walked on down the hall;
"She’s sneaky! She’s snippy!
She’s snappish and needy!
She’s common! And stupid!
Conniving and greedy!
At the top of the stairs!
Through guest room door!
Now gash her! And bash her!
And smash her head more!"
“You betrayed us, step-mother! It’s time to atone!
To pay for your avarice! DIE HERE ALONE!!!"
Chopped in the neck, Abby’s fight or flight said,
“You’re trapped in a corner! Crawl under that bed!”
Abby tried to escape but the bed was too low,
Life faded to black with one last crushing blow;
Her heart lost its beat and her breath ceased to flow,
Blood seeped to a pool on the carpet below;
As she stared at the brains oozing out of the head,
Lizzie laughed with relief now that Abby was dead;
As the summer pear ripens and from the bough drops,
To be plucked from the ground all covered with slops;
And so Lizzie’s scheme of most recent fruition
Turned right into sh*t due to Bridget’s condition;
In stark revelation, she saw with pure dread,
There was no going back now that Abby was dead;
The alibi so perfect and planned with such malice,
Bridget would shop while she’d go visit Alice;
Like clockwork, father'd come home near eleven,
He'd find soot and flames on a stairway to heaven;
That infernal dwelling - Abby’s highway to hell,
The body burned crispy, the hair you would smell;
“Mrs. Borden went out to tend a sick friend,
The note?? Oh, it too met a fiery end!”
You can’t always get what you want, Lizzie knew,
There was grim satisfaction in what she would do;
No smoke on the water approached Mount Hope Bay,
A hatchet for father, no arson today;
A true ironmaiden, this black sabbath queen,
More human than human, a killing machine;
The hatchet her best tool for quick and the dead,
When he napped, she butchered his face from his head;
The blood tainted love of a daughter who kills,
Gave the men of Fall River a case of the chills;
If his daughter killed him, then mine could kill me,
"Not guilty," said the jury, and Lizzie walked free;
Not guilty and innocent are never the same,
So Lizbeth spent her lifetime taking the blame;
Twelve decades later still seeking the truths,
Merry Christmas to all you Bordenite sleuths!!!
‘Twas the night before slaughter, behind Lizzie’s door,
Murder plans in the making, despite Morse’s snore;
The hatchet was stashed at the head of her bed,
In hopes wicked step-mother soon would be dead;
Bridget was restless in her wee attic room,
Her dreams overwhelmed by a sick sense of doom;
Both parents clad for Victorian nocturnal,
Passed one final time into sleep not eternal;
At dawn on the lawn with barely a care,
Andrew emptied his slops and then slurped down a pear;
Lizzie slept not at all for the damned find no peace,
‘Til brains, blood and bones give cathartic release;
Helios beamed down on a Greek chorus rhyme,
“To murder a parent - the MOST heinous crime;
The boatman refuses your parricide’s pay,
A Shade in the mud of the Styx you will stay.”
The chorus was faint, she heard no refrain,
Twas blood lust for vengeance that roared in her brain;
Gloves, aprons and hankies - Liz covered her all,
She crept through the doors and walked on down the hall;
"She’s sneaky! She’s snippy!
She’s snappish and needy!
She’s common! And stupid!
Conniving and greedy!
At the top of the stairs!
Through guest room door!
Now gash her! And bash her!
And smash her head more!"
“You betrayed us, step-mother! It’s time to atone!
To pay for your avarice! DIE HERE ALONE!!!"
Chopped in the neck, Abby’s fight or flight said,
“You’re trapped in a corner! Crawl under that bed!”
Abby tried to escape but the bed was too low,
Life faded to black with one last crushing blow;
Her heart lost its beat and her breath ceased to flow,
Blood seeped to a pool on the carpet below;
As she stared at the brains oozing out of the head,
Lizzie laughed with relief now that Abby was dead;
As the summer pear ripens and from the bough drops,
To be plucked from the ground all covered with slops;
And so Lizzie’s scheme of most recent fruition
Turned right into sh*t due to Bridget’s condition;
In stark revelation, she saw with pure dread,
There was no going back now that Abby was dead;
The alibi so perfect and planned with such malice,
Bridget would shop while she’d go visit Alice;
Like clockwork, father'd come home near eleven,
He'd find soot and flames on a stairway to heaven;
That infernal dwelling - Abby’s highway to hell,
The body burned crispy, the hair you would smell;
“Mrs. Borden went out to tend a sick friend,
The note?? Oh, it too met a fiery end!”
You can’t always get what you want, Lizzie knew,
There was grim satisfaction in what she would do;
No smoke on the water approached Mount Hope Bay,
A hatchet for father, no arson today;
A true ironmaiden, this black sabbath queen,
More human than human, a killing machine;
The hatchet her best tool for quick and the dead,
When he napped, she butchered his face from his head;
The blood tainted love of a daughter who kills,
Gave the men of Fall River a case of the chills;
If his daughter killed him, then mine could kill me,
"Not guilty," said the jury, and Lizzie walked free;
Not guilty and innocent are never the same,
So Lizbeth spent her lifetime taking the blame;
Twelve decades later still seeking the truths,
Merry Christmas to all you Bordenite sleuths!!!