09/18/2012 10:11
I sing a tale of Jack,
Whom I'm sure you know well.
A fiery place below, is where he now dwells.
His wife and his daughter
Paid a rather steep fee.
As he ran through town on a killing spree.
He took out the barber
And the mayor's wife,
Who had never harmed a soul her entire life.
Next went the blacksmith
And a farmer's son.
He laughed maniacally at what he had done.
The town square now echoes
With a mournful knell.
And the scorching flames beneath serve Crazy Jack well.