The little old lady sat on a bench

All sweet and demure, all smiles that tugged at the heart strings with a wrench 

I sat down and we spoke, her accent was French

We talked and we laughed and then she told me a tale 

That surprised me and shocked me, it was of a household in far distant vale

As a young girl, a maid was her calling, 

And the house that she worked in was one most appalling

It’s family was brash, bold, rude with measure 

Working for them, she did tell me, was one with no pleasure

The family sad in a little way to say, did not win many friends at the end of the day

Such was their manner, their will and their way

Then one day, so it was rumoured, a scandal did arise

The husband, a brute, came across the wife of the local Doctor all gaily dressed in party disguise

The brute was aroused, wicked and cruel and forced himself onto the poor helpless young fool

Distressed and dishonoured her life in a mess, in her shame and her madness, she did what she thought was for the best

Her suicide sent the doctor into a state of dark shock 

He succumbed to a melencoly from which nothing could shake him or rock

Oh! How cruel to be a working in such a house; she did her duties as timid as any frail mouse

Whilst the brute confessed his deeds to his wife who was just as wicked and cruel, 

Even to his son, a witless mean twisted young fool

The law could not touch him

That vilest of men

How could justice be served?

But their wickedness did not so there end

Other deeds did they do, all three, so bitter an foul

They even did torment further the poor doctor, by decorums sake, I will not say how

Needless to say

Anger against the did rally

Until at the last, justice did no longer dally

That cruelest of men, that harpy of a wife and her monsterous son pushed the staff of the house one step too far

Was after a night of drinking of cards of curses and more, I Seek no  forgiveness  of that I am sure

They drank and they drank, they leered and the bullied, they called out for more wine and other sweet fancies

So off with the cook, we did raid their greediest pantries 

I spied a bottle, the cook caught my eye, we shared the glance furtive, we both raised the widest of smiles

Why or how it was their neither of us knew, the sniff was one of fresh almonds, the bottle was coloured bright blue, we decanted it into a port, we laid on crackers and cheese,

We took it up to them then, for such a spread we knew to their greed it would please 

Needless to say

That night they all past away, no one did mourn them, no questions were asked, but small justice it would seem did come at the last

She smiled a sweet smile then be me goodbye

That was here story, I tell you no lie.

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