Riff On David Lewis Paget's Fine 'The Mudlarks' Poem by David McLansky

Bad Cess

It's said to be
Bad cess, bad luck
To rob a suicide;
To steal her chains
And ruby rings
After she has died;
The wealth found
In her dress pockets,
The copper coins and things
On her lapels the golden locket,
Her diamond stone earrings;
In life they brought no lasting joy,
No lasting happiness
Her life ended in the mud
Such was her distress;
So leave those bodies
The Thames wash up
Along it’s oily shore,
In the slimy, fetid muck,
Tide battered bruised and sore.