Jack is a Ripper

Dear Jack, you're a ripper,

No doubt about that.

If your heart had a hue,

'Twould be as black as your hat.

You rip not just women

In Whitechapel there.

Though no doubt you love it,

You laugh with each tear.

No, you slice up the hearts

And the minds of the folks

Who had daughters and sisters

That became your sick jokes.

O, tell me Jack, why

Do you mangle with glee

And leave all your messes

For the public to see.

I ask you because

Not two days ago,

You introduced Gracie

To some new friends below.

Yes, my sister was strange,

I shall not deny,

But God you are not, Jack.

You've no right to decide.

You are killer yet coward;

You hide in the night.

But you see, my dear ripper,

Sir, I've got a light.

I know not your face,

Nor motive, nor name,

But Jack, now I'm playing,

And you'll lose this game.