The Butcher of St. Vincent

In St. Vincent dwelt a man
whose story must be told
For as in darkness fables can
grow icy, black and cold

The night was glass, clouds in veil
the moon was full and near
Far off held a shuddered tale
of screams no one could hear

Found at dawn, a broken death
slaughtered in the wild
To the air and wind she left
a husband and a child

Fear and rumors rose about
a monster cruel and distant
Named for evil in their town
The Butcher of St. Vincent

Months had past, seasons changed
the carnage had suspended
Then continued bloodshed came
as if it had not ended

A son avowed this craven deed
pride taken in the truth
A curse raised, the masses freed
by hold the hangman's noose

Alas there was no respite still
the pogrom did not cease
Another felt the want to kill
with savagery and increase

A second caught with bloodied hands
his crimes and wrongs indignant
Abashed they chose to dub again
The Butcher of St. Vincent

Tranquility and solace paid
the worse had come and passed
Gallows brought the killer's reign
to a remnant not to last

But last it did, when time would tell
of terror to ensue
And yet again a victim fell
to the blade of someone new

One by one, the guilty came
confessions of their share
On and on, they found the slain
in endless severed fare

To this day, a cryptic cry
in hidden malediction
As their horrid myths surmise
The Butchers of St. Vincent