A Man Named William Bloat

A Man Named William Bloat

In a mean abode, in the Shanking Road

Lived a man named William Bloat.

Now, he had a Wife

The Plague of his life,

Who continually  got his goat 

And one day at  Dawn

With her night shift On

He slit her bloody Throat.

Now, he was glad he had done what he had
As she lay there stiff and still
'Til suddenly awe of the angry law
Filled his soul with an awful chill
And to finish the fun so well begun
He decided himself to kill

Then he took the sheet from his wife's cold feet
And he twisted it into a rope
And he hanged himself from the pantry shelf
'Twas an easy end, let's hope
With his dying breath and he facing death
He solemnly cursed the Pope

But the strangest turn of the whole concern
Is only just beginning
He went to hell, but his wife got well
And she's still alive and sinning
For the razor blade was German-made
But the rope was Belfast linen