The Ballad of William Bloat
|In a mean abode on the Skankill Road|
Lived a man named William Bloat;
He had a wife, the curse of his life,
Who continually got his goat.
So one day at dawn, with her nightdress on
He slit her bloody throat.
2. With a razor gash he settled her hash
|3. And yet he was glad he had done what he had|
When she lay there stiff and still
But a sudden awe of the angry law
Struck his heart with an icy chill.
So to finish the fun so well begun
He resolved himself to kill.
4. He took the sheet from the wife's coul' feet
|5. But the strangest turn to the whole concern|
Is only just beginning.
He went to Hell but his wife got well
And she's still alive and sinnin',
For the razor blade was German made
But the sheet was Belfast linen.