Monday, 8 September 2008


Libby was a poisoner, Libby was quite mad,
Dosed dear Ma with nightshade, fed mandrake to poor Dad.
Gave baby Myrna arsenic, until her hair fell out,
While Grandpa guzzled hemlock, as treatment for the gout.

No upstanding figure of polite society, this Mephitic female bane,
A viperine scourge since schooldays, and is sure to strike again,
Victoriana’s equal to those Borgias of Renaissance days,
And spreads her toxic venom’s in such innovative ways;
Here a dab, there a sip : a touch, a dram, a smear,
Has claimed three score of victims by pollution of their beer
Whilst posing as a bar drudge in the esteemed Fox and Hounds;
Libby’s murderous appetites seem to heed no dietary bounds.

So copious her studies into the academics of toxic themes,
More with the stuff of nightmares, than pleasant, etheric dreams.
No mere Anarchist this Harpy, but Nihilistic to the Core,
As soon she’s killed a dozen, thirsts for a dozen more.
From youthful adolescence, a noxious Harbinger of Doom,
Begotten of Malefic Sin, from Genocide’s septic womb.
And now does she make ready for the Opus of her Days,
As the appointed Superintendent of Reservoirs and Waterways.

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