Twas on the day that I was born br That from this world br You were torn br Oh sweet Mary Kelly br br The last and worst br Of the Rippers work br You left this world so cold br br In the past you still remain br For what purpose were you slain br An epitaph of sorrow and pain br Oh sweet Mary Kelly br br And though the world remembers Jack br Your story’s not been told br To most you remain a mystery br So many turns in your history br Oh sweet Mary Kelly br br Though known of ill repute br Such poverty must have driven thee br To such a sad pursuit br Oh sweet Mary Kelly br br In London dark and cold br Your youth was quickly stole br Your sad and fragile life br Was stolen in the night br Of November ninth br Oh sweet Mary Kelly br br The murders many feared br Its never been quite clear br How you fell that night br To such a fateful fright br Oh sweet Mary Kelly br br Though stories there be many br Versions of your life a plenty br Those who watched in scorn br With no compassion to those forlorn br Women of the night in White Chapel br br I wrote this poem for you br On the day of my birth br And though there be few who may morn br My prayers for you might have some worth br br I dedicate this memorial verse br Perchance to remove the ripper curse br And though I ’m no Keats nor Shelly br I've penned this poem in remembrance of br Dear Sweet Mary Kellybr br Lynne FincherSpringardenbr br