She walked the streets alone,
Who ever would have known?
That this night would be her last,
How quickly would she die, how fast?
Her name was Ellen Josephine,
Her body doused in Kerosene,
Her body found was torn apart,
Her head was gone as was her heart,
Trains of thought so often wandered,
A crime so evil to be pondered,
For measures that were oh so drastic,
The killer oh so psychopathic.
The case went on eleven years,
The people filled to brim with fears,
Nobody thought that it would be,
So much a lasting mystery.
Though many tried not one got close,
Eventually an overdose,
Was considered as the reason,
Opposing to foul play or treason.
The family Ellen left behind,
Was torn asunder, as if blind,
Blinded to the one who lied,
Never knowing why she died.
Tragedy then hit the town,
When the city saw sundown,
The killer struck again once more,
Another scene of true horror.
The Killer never caught was free,
And painful though it was to see,
That such a monster would live on,
When Gallows should be his at Dawn.
This horrible and evil crime,
Would leave it’s mark within our time,
It’s often said that Ellen’s ghost,
Is seen with Death as her kind host.
Alas, with justice never done,
And piece of mind was never won,
The beauty nevermore was seen,
Of the mother Ellen Josephine.