24 October 1888
DOTS BY THE WAY.
TRAGEDIES AT THE EAST-END.
SOME horrid murders have been done
All in the slums of Whitechapel.
The "Bobbies" up and down have run
To find a clue, but sad to tell,
The only link, a written scrawl
Too early in the dawning day;
It was upon a dirty wall,
Some busybody wiped away.
Now Jack the Ripper, with his knife,
Goes safely down the busy street,
Alert to take another life,
Nor shirks a "Bobbie" when they meet.
We do not mean, nor would we say,
That the police are aught to blame.
A true and trusty band are they,
As record of their deeds proclaim.
If possible to hunt him down,
They'll catch him yet upon the wing.
Tho' some may sneer, and some may frown,
And talk of red tape blundering,
"The Force" is no blind booby lot--
They're clever men, alert and "game,"
And ill deserve a sneer or blot
Upon their courage or their name.
Tho', doubtless, sometimes they may make
In all their careful best laid schemes,
A seeming blunder or mistake,
Of what the wisest never dreams.
But bear in mind, they are but men
(Since first created men have erred),
One cannot do the work of ten,
And they are ruled by Scotland Yard.
OVERHEARD IN WHITECHAPEL.--"Hallo, Sal ! Leather Apron
ain't killed you, then?" "No, the reptile ! Sure, an' I wish he had!"
"What for?" "So that I might say him hung, the man crater!"