It was in the time when passion and
crime went hand in hand together...
girls would trudge the cobbled streets,
just trying to make their ends meet...
selling their bodies for food to eat.
A lady though not pure-bred
needed to rest her weary head,
even though purgatory was rife...
from pimps who caused much strife,
then took her money and her sad life,
a knife was sliced across her throat,
blood spilt the locals stand and gloat,
she left this world without a penny...
the murderer could be one of many.
'It ain't a wonder she be dead.'
that's what the locals surely said,
as Mary lay on the bed alone...
without a place to call her own.