Mary Bell liked to kill

 

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In merry old England, in the spring of sixty-eight

There was a girl named Mary Bell that fed on hate

At the ripe old age of eleven

She sent two little boys to heaven

Plus five failed attempts left the little bitch irate

 

Mary even choked her accomplice Norma Bell: not related

A girl dumb enough to still hang with Mary in acts ill-fated

But she took her chance to squeal

After cutting herself a deal

So Mary was locked up with Norma free, but now hated

 

Despite signs of mutilation the court convicts of manslaughter

“Eye-for-an-eye” is out the window when it’s someone’s daughter

The last of her brief fame

A three day escape game

When she gave up her virginity, and spoke of blood flowing like water

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Kate Bender and her felonious family: America’s first serial killers

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The “Bloody Benders” were a hell of a family

They spent part of their lives on a killing spree

Sister Kate the attraction

With victims a distraction

A cold-blooded flirting; but their death not a fantasy

 

Pa “Bill” was the head of this fiendish clan

By all accounts he was a mountain of a man

Fathered John, a dumb son

Yet both killed for fun

And a means to prosper in their adopted new land

 

Eleven travelers at their Kansas inn waylaid

Hammer to skulls and slit throats was how the corpses were made

Then stripped and robbed in the cellar

By accomplice kin of the killer

And buried in Ma’s garden where they finally stayed

 

A percentage who care for this sort of bloody history

Prefer to keep the Bender’s fates shrouded in mystery

Cuz’ justice wasn’t served by the courts

All we have are three reports

Of vigilante justice by the vengeful hands of a posse

 

Colonel York was the brother of the Bender’s last kill

He swore that he would see all Bender’s sent to hell

A much deserved fate

They even burned Kate

So say posse members who threw their bodies down a well

 

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Belle Siddon: a Southern Belle who fell

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Belle Siddon,

aka Madame Vestal,

aka Lurline Monte Verde,

was at first dealt a good hand

from well-to-do stock,

an’ she was highly educated in Missouri.

But times, they do change,

Civil War took the reins,

an’ many a plan became blurry.

From Southern lass

to Confederate spy,

Belle parlayed her status

for information with lies.

But wars go away

an’ loyalties change,

an’ Belle later married

a U.S. Army sawbones:

stationed down Texas way.

Stayed as true as she could

till his last breath did pass,

then found she must fend fer’ herself.

No trophy wives then

like there is today,

Pride had some sway

an’ Belle filled her own shelf.

She had a knack fer’ gambling,

an’ ran a few casinos

in Wichita, Denver, and Deadwood.

Supply and demand

always goes hand-in-hand:

clean cards,

dirty women,

straight whiskey.

And if she was cheatin… she was good.

Lawmen an’ badmen,

both gunmen fer’ hire,

sought Lady Luck in Belle’s place.

They’d gamble an’ cuss,

drink sour mash an’ fuss,

pinch bottoms

an’ get a slapped ‘cross the face.

If Lady Luck’s a no show,

they’d bed them a “ho,”

or belly on up ta’ the bar.

They’d swear off of gamblin’,

but always return,

even if the trip was quite far.

Once a Southern Belle

not always a Southern Belle,

she knew all her needs

an’ did fill ‘um.

But she still was a woman,

a romantic at heart,

an’ fell hard when Cupid came callin’.

Yet her choice of men

in her new life an’ trade

would even cause whores ta’ start bawlin’.

Archie McLaughlin,

notorious robber,

he craved the strong-box from the stage.

Yet robbing ain’t easy

with love in the mix

cuz’ Archie would tell Belle his plans:

after all, she’d been a spy.

But Belle’s tongue had loosened

since the days of the war.

With too much ta’ drink,

or in a rage,

Belle would speak out of turn.

Her slip of the tongue

sent vigilantes on the run,

an’ they caught up with Archie

still ridin’ the stage.

They brought the noose.

Arch brought the neck.

They had themselves a “necktie party.”

Out in the boonies,

swingin’ from a tree,

that was the end of “poor” Archie.

Belle took it hard,

he was dead cuz’ of her,

an’ how could she love a dead lover?

She wept out of grief,

she needed relief,

she wanted to hide undercover.

Deadwood’s a place

where you pick yer’ poison…

an’ Belle, she soon was addicted.

She tried ta’ forget

her disgrace an’ lost love.

She traded her memories fer’ opium.

Then off ta’ the coast,

San Francisco was calling,

time ta’ begin again.

Belle thought she knew what she wanted,

but she was still haunted:

Pain had hitched a ride.

For lack of her lover

she puffed on the pipe.

They found her sprawled out

in the opium den…

unconscious,

on the night that she died.

 

© JW Thomas

Elinore Bazore: a bitter bitch

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A bitter estranged wife named Elinore Bazore

Was omitted from a reunion and her hatred did soar

So she crashed the fun

And brought out her gun

It was time to spray blood on the floor

She was not invited but she came to play

First she killed hubby, on the ground there he lay

Then his parents too

And a brother were through

And still she hadn’t finished her say

The only survivor she shot was her son

Showing no love in her heart for no one

But the cherry on top

Which made her stop

She ate her own bullet, the last from the gun

© JW Thomas