Mass Murder of Fleet Street

By Joan Vaughan-Taylor

Surely you’ve heard of Sweeny Todd
Infamous villain, depraved and odd?
Frequently, men from the dockside there
Came to grief in his barber’s chair.

Hapless, and easy prey were these
Who’d filled their pockets while overseas.
Sweeney planned, with his evil stealth
To rob these dupes of their hard earned wealth

After a trim and a cut throat shave

They’d lie stunned in his basement grave,
Tipped through a cunningly made trap door,
Under the seat, on that Fleet Street floor.

A neighbourly woman of enterprise
Dissected their bodies and made meat pies
With crusty pastry, but Mrs Lovatt
Grew too greedy and came to covet

More of the spoils from this deadly haul
Which finally caused the pair’s downfall.
I won’t go into the detailed story
Because it is shockingly grim and gory.

Based on these murders, they wrote a play
A melodrama performed today
Complete with hero, heroine, all
To cheer or hiss at the Music Hall.

Nevertheless, you should beware
Next time you sit in the salon chair
That they don’t sell meat pies next door
And there’s no trap on the hair-brushed floor!

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