Lizzie Borden took an axe,
And gave her mother forty whacks.
After he saw what she did,
Her father gave her forty quid.
“Thank you, thank you, little one,
For snuffing out that evil scum.
But now, you must be on the run.
Leave the axe and take the gun.
Your secret I will never tell,
Of how you sent your mum to Hell.
Your fingerprints will be erased,
From the axe that I’ll somehow misplace.
Again, I thank you Lizzie dear,
For killing that old hag.
All she ever did,
Was bitch, complain and nag.”
But what her father didn’t know,
Was he was ’bout to get a blow.
And dirty minds should be aware,
That we’re not talking ’bout “down there.”
Ole Lizzie whacked his face in half,
And glowing in the aftermath,
She heard him gurgle as she laughed,
And smiled, and spoke his epitaph.
She never did get caught, you see.
The townsfolk simply let her be.
She got her mansion on the hill,
With flowers on the window sill.
She lived alone and died the same,
But no one ever will forget,
Ole Lizzie Bordens’ name.