Classic Poem

Eight little whores, with no hope of Heaven,
Gladstone may save one, then there'll be seven.
Seven little whores begging for a shilling,
One stays in Heneage Court, then there's a killing.

Six little whores, glad to be alive,
One sidles up to Jack, then there are five.
Four and whore rhyme aright, so do three and me.
I'll set the town alight, ere there are two.

Two little whores, shivering with fright,
Seek a cosy doorway, in the middle of the night.
Jack's knife flashes, then there's but one.
And the last one's ripest for Jack's idea of fun.