Known for his gruesome style,
This man knew all the while
That England’s finest would not see
The clues he left on his killing spree.

Only women he would kill,
Whores, to him, were the biggest thrill.
With promises of pleasure, he’d lure them away
A number of them would never again see the light of day.

Into dark ally ways, they were led
Only to be found the next day, dead.
Out of the fog, he would attack
To him, it was a midnight snack.

He wasn’t picky about their age,
(Considering back then, that was hard to gauge.)
His murders were quite neat,
It must have been an easy feat;

For his victims, so it seems,
Struggled not and were with out screams.
The knife, the Yard’s man did confess,
Was long and surgically thin, no less.

He knew quite well how to slaughter,
The women were some lowlife’s daughter.
The necks had been neatly cut,
Their entrails, removed from the gut.

Each organ was removed with surgical precision,
Though no one knew why he murdered or his decision
Of why the women of East End were the best
And why he would settle for no less.

During the day, he walked unseen
Though his eyes had an evil sheen.
Anonymous letters were left out,
Found by people who had no doubt

That the murders should be solved
But unfortunately, they haven’t been resolved.
Be wary when walking
For he may be stalking,

Since no one knows
Where he goes.
He hasn’t been found,
His scent unknown to the hound.

Never once in his killings, was a pause,
No one ever saw his cause,
For no one even had a clue,
Of what Jack the Ripper knew.