Have mercy on me, sir

Allow me to impose on you


I have no place to stay


And my bones are cold right through




I will tell you a story


Of a man and his family

And I swear that it is true





Ten years ago I met a girl named Joy

She was a sweet and happy thing


Her eyes were bright blue jewels


And we were married in the spring




I had no idea what happiness


And little love could bring

Or what life had in store


But all things move toward their end


All things move toward their end

On that you can be sure


Hit it




Then one morning I awoke to find her weeping


And for many days to follow


She grew so sad and lonely

Became Joy in name only


Within her breast


There launched an unnamed sorrow

And a dark and grim force set sail





Farewell happy fields

Where joy forever dwells


Hail horrors hail


Was it an act of contrition

Or some awful premonition





As if she saw into the heart

Of her final blood-soaked night


Those lunatic eyes, that hungry kitchen knife

Ah I see sir, that I have your attention!




Well, could it be?

How often I've asked that question


Well, then in quick succession

We had babies, one, two, three




We called them Hilda, Hattie and Holly

They were their mother's children


Their eyes were bright blue jewels

And they were quiet as a mouse




There was no laughter in the house

No, not for Hilda, Hattie or Holly

"No wonder", people said


"Poor mother Joy's so melancholy"



Well, one night there came a visitor to our little home

I was visiting a sick friend


I was a doctor then

Joy and the girls were on their own




Joy had been bound with electrical tape

In her mouth a gag

She'd been stabbed repeatedly

And stuffed into a sleeping bag




In their very cots my girls were robbed of their lives

Method of murder much the same as my wife's


Method of murder much the same as my wife's



It was midnight when I arrived home

Said to the police on the telephone

Someone's taken four innocent lives

They never caught the man

He's still on the loose



It seems he has done many many more

Quotes John Milton on the walls in the victim's blood

The police are investigating at tremendous cost

In my house he wrote, "His red right hand"



That, I'm told is from Paradise Lost

The wind round here gets wicked cold

But my story is nearly told

I fear the morning will bring quite a frost



So I've left my home

I drift from land to land

I am upon your step

And you are a family man



Outside the vultures wheel

The wolves howl, the serpents hiss

And to extend this small favor, friend

Would be the sum of earthly bliss

Do you reckon me a friend?



The sun to me is dark

And silent as the moon

Do you, sir, have a room?

Are you beckoning me in?