Have mercy on me, sir
Allow me to impose on you
I have no place to stay
And my bones are cold right throughI will tell you a story
Of a man and his family
And I swear that it is trueTen years ago I met a girl named Joy
She was a sweet and happy thing
Her eyes were bright blue jewels
And we were married in the springI had no idea what happiness
And little love could bring
Or what life had in store
But all things move toward their end
All things move toward their end
On that you can be sure
Hit itThen one morning I awoke to find her weeping
And for many days to follow
She grew so sad and lonely
Became Joy in name only
Within her breast
There launched an unnamed sorrow
And a dark and grim force set sailFarewell happy fields
Where joy forever dwells
Hail horrors hail
Was it an act of contrition
Or some awful premonitionAs if she saw into the heart
Of her final blood-soaked night
Those lunatic eyes, that hungry kitchen knife
Ah I see sir, that I have your attention!Well, could it be?
How often I've asked that question
Well, then in quick succession
We had babies, one, two, threeWe called them Hilda, Hattie and Holly
They were their mother's children
Their eyes were bright blue jewels
And they were quiet as a mouseThere was no laughter in the house
No, not for Hilda, Hattie or Holly
"No wonder", people said
"Poor mother Joy's so melancholy"Well, one night there came a visitor to our little home
I was visiting a sick friend
I was a doctor then
Joy and the girls were on their ownJoy had been bound with electrical tape
In her mouth a gag
She'd been stabbed repeatedly
And stuffed into a sleeping bagIn their very cots my girls were robbed of their lives
Method of murder much the same as my wife's
Method of murder much the same as my wife'sIt was midnight when I arrived home
Said to the police on the telephone
Someone's taken four innocent lives
They never caught the man
He's still on the looseIt seems he has done many many more
Quotes John Milton on the walls in the victim's blood
The police are investigating at tremendous cost
In my house he wrote, "His red right hand"That, I'm told is from Paradise Lost
The wind round here gets wicked cold
But my story is nearly told
I fear the morning will bring quite a frostSo I've left my home
I drift from land to land
I am upon your step
And you are a family manOutside the vultures wheel
The wolves howl, the serpents hiss
And to extend this small favor, friend
Would be the sum of earthly bliss
Do you reckon me a friend?The sun to me is dark
And silent as the moon
Do you, sir, have a room?
Are you beckoning me in?