Albert Edward Burrows   by KJ Walker

 

With iron grey ‘tache

And eyes of steel

Attractive to women

Sex appeal

A massive frame

Chiselled and bold

A liking for young ‘uns

Although he was old

Police were in fear of

This man so strong

Though they saved him that day

From the baying throng

 

He’d married a local

A fair maid called Hannah

She was much younger

The talk of the manor

She’d one child already

Then soon had another

A picture of happiness

Father and mother

And work, there was plenty

He was earning good brass

Enough to keep two kids

And also the lass

 

 

 

The marriage was sham though

Nothing was real

The moustachioed charmer

With so much appeal

Had one wife already

And bigamy’s a crime

Six months in prison

He bided his time

And the baying crowd

They vented their bile

But all settled down soon

At least for a while

 

 

The work it dried up

And the cash became tight

He couldn’t keep two wives

Try as he might

So did Hannah leave him?

That wintery night

When she, and her two kids

Disappeared from sight

 

 

And the baying crowd

The massing throng

Demanded their answers

‘cos something was wrong

Where are they now

They demanded to know

Nobody’s seen them

Where did they go?

But the moustachioed charmer

With so much panache

Said they’d come to no harm

As he lied through his tache

And the baying crowd

They vented their bile

But all settled down soon

At least for a while

 

 

An old man gets lonely

A song must be sung

A yearning for young flesh

How young, is too young?

A small boy went missing

A lad of just four

The baying crowd

Called,   to Albert’s front door

Accusations were flying

And bad things were said

Albert joined in the search

Though he knew he was dead.

 

 

They searched Symmondley Moor

To the fore and the aft

And they found four dead bodies

Down a disused pit shaft

Protestations of innocence

Claimed, his conscience was clear

Not in the area

Not even near

But the baying crowd

They vented their bile

The monstrous, murdering

Paedophile

The baying crowd

The massing throng

Who’d have thought

They were right all along

 

As the townsfolk poured out

From the neighbourhood

Wishing to lynch him

Baying for blood

They went the whole hog

Nothing by half

And they strung the sod up

By his very own scarf

And the police though they feared him

They did cut him loose

They spared him the lynch mob

But not from the noose

 

 

Hoist the black flag

As the verdict comes in

He would not tremble

But, he’d hang for his sin

Eleven minutes

The jury took

To find him guilty

And close the book

He would not tremble

At his own deaths knell

Albert Burrows

Rot in hell