The KillingA Poem by The Iron Horseman A poem about the seamier side of life in Victorian London. It's not much different today! :) “Let's kill 'em, Willum,” the Weasel said, “Let's chop 'em up, let's make 'em dead.” Willum fixed the Weasel with a glare. The Weasel quailed before that stare.
Willum said, “Nah, let's do somethin' different tonight. I'll stay back 'ere, away from the light. I wanna see 'ow much bottle you've got, 'Cause I don't reckon you've got a lot. So I'm lettin' you do this one by yerself, Don't screw it up, that could be bad for your 'ealth.”
The Weasel quivered, the Weasel quaked, Willum knew his courage was faked. The Weasel realized he would have to do it, His trusty hip flask would help him get through it. Taking a swig of the demon rum, He said, “Okay, Willum, I'll get it done.”
The Weasel crept up behind the pair, A knife in either hand, Him in his frock coat with his haughty stare, Her with her jewelled wedding band.
The killers were being paid, To make both of them dead. When the couple were slayed, They'd get their bloody bread.
But the Weasel had thought, Willum would do the real killing. That was the deal he had bought, And he was ready and willing.
But now here he was, out on his own, He'd never have come, if only he'd known. His guts were clenching, quivering with fear, He wished he was anywhere else but here.
Summoning his courage, he stepped up to the plate, “Let's get 'er done, no reason to wait.” He slipped one knife through the gentleman's ribs, Then slashed the throat of Her Worshipful Nibs.
Fleeing the scene at his best turn of speed, The Weasel did not hang around to watch them bleed. He ducked into the alley to meet his friend Willum, Saying, “Did you see that, Willum? Did you see me kill 'em?”
Willum replied, “I surely did. Well done, Weasel. You did what I bid.” Then, with one swift movement, Willum whipped out his knife, Plunging it into the Weasel, stealing his life.
As he scrabbled at the cobbles on which he was lying, And watched his blood leak out, and knew he was dying, The Weasel looked at Willum with a tearful eye, And said just one word, that word was “Why?”
“Well,” said Willum, with a nasty smile, I've been planning this for quite a while. This way we don't have to go Dutch, I keep all the money, I get twice as much. Then I'll use all that money to run off with your wife. No hard feelings, mate, that's just the London Life.”
© 2019 The Iron Horseman
© 2019 The Iron HorsemanAuthor's Note
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The Iron HorsemanCanadaAboutAspiring new writer. I enjoy writing stories, poems and song lyrics. In fact most of my poems are song lyrics! All constructive input is welcome. If you think something sucks, tell me so. I won't be o.. more..Writing
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