The Ballad of Finsbury Wise

Finsbury Wise was born as a new century worked sweat into steam,
His infant cry rang out as he told the world 'Here I am!'
In a time of pistons and dreams, of Empires and schemes,
Finsbury Wise was born to become a beast of a man.

The tale of Finsbury Wise is a sad lament of our time,
So begins his life in Victorian hardship, strife, and alone,
He sees depression personified when he saw his mother cry,
In the empty whiskey bottles his father discarded like hope.

But he had a place to hide when this life was harsh at home,
In his mind was a playground he could always escape the pain,
The other boys ignored Finsbury Wise so he had to dream alone,
With nowhere to go but inward he would let his mind roam.

He grew selfish of his world and vowed never to tell in fear of being denied,
Inside his mind he worked hard to contrive a world all of his own,
Finsbury only wanted to paint his world with love he could not find,
But from this lonely beginning a savage end was forged that would drip woe.

He coughed and sweated in the damp, his taut muscles did cramp,
He was kept busy all day doing chores and out of school,
Finsbury grew and he tried to read, he tried to write for want of a stamp,
But he was unarmed for such tasks, an apprentice fool.

For him there was to be no place beyond the factory gates,
At sixteen he found work there sweeping the yard and the shop floor,
He painted railings and polished brass and sometimes cleaned grates,
He had to leave home and live alone in a room above the coal merchants door.

Love came and tormented poor Finsbury Wise one warm sunny day,
She laughed at his dirty clothes, empty pockets and cold hands,
'I'll marry a Sailor, a Lord. Not some broom boy!' She scorned and skipped away,
So it was Finsbury Wise was a poor man in a poor land.

Finsbury Wise.....Poor Finsbury Wise, his life was plagued and accursed,
All he wanted to be was something more than you see,
But before things can get bad they must get much worse,
Love was there in his heart trapped by fates and not to be.

His horizon seemed to be a rolling wave eroding him and unfit to drink,
He lived treading this water as seasons swirled all around,
Time passed and things never changed so on he would dream and think,
Many hours he spent alone and lost, in his fantasies feeling profound.

Then the dread of war came! It changed his world as he marched out of town,
He'd heard stories of battles and blades yet felt no fear,
Young men cried in the night, or silent from fright, most cast their eyes down,
In the dark on the deck of the ship Finsbury Wise smiled ear to ear.

Gone was the broom and paintbrush, the damp room an cracked cup,
Finsbury Wise stripped his rifle and supped hot tea on the deck,
France loomed out of the sea mist as Finsbury thought war was fair enough,
He was equal at last as they sailed into France, none were better he bet.

Through those killing fields he ran with his rifle in hand,
Shooting strangers and sometimes even saved other men,
The Devils luck he had at hand as the bullets whizzed by the damned,
Hot blood ran into the mud and none was his, Amen.

None of his was lost, not a single drop, though he charged and made battle all the while,
Soldiers began to praise his warrior ways 'Look how he sleeps when it's bombs away!'
As the flames licked the night and men cowered in fright Finsbury did like to smile,
The enemy feared him a monster of War content to kill and keep peace at bay.

Medals were pinned and he even supped Gin with officers in the neat Mess,
None ever knew how his mind was set to; killing now was what he could do,
War brought him it seemed out of those childish dreams of success,
Now he had mettle, respect, and coinage to spend on new shoes.

But the worse news came on a quiet misty day,
WAR WAS ENDED, HIP, HIP HURRAY!

Finsbury Wise did not cheer, he did not laugh or drink beer,
On the day they told him that war was 'No more'
He sat quietly and alone, sadness came as he watched the smoke clear,
But he knew he would fight on now he had no fear of law.

On the ship men wrote letters to make loved ones feel better,
But Finsbury Wise cursed the cowards of war,
He wanted the prize and to remain in uniform, the same,
The men eyed him with caution as they stepped ashore.

Finsbury knew war had passed but vowed never no more to be poor,
No more broom or lonely damp hovel for him ever again,
He had army pay to spend and it would last him until he wanted more,
He was murderous and alive, this way he would always remain.

In his uniform he was handsome, this soldier with the devilish smile,
War had shown him killing, killing showed him people bleed, nothing more,
All his youth he had spent dreaming of being more and worthwhile,
People....It's just what they have he desires, just knock on the door.

The ladies in town soon noticed his heroic smile and cavalier charm,
Finsbury bowed politely and opened doors as their eyes wanted more,
He knew they would blush, wish him well,make a fuss of his strong arm,
He stole their hearts, their diamonds and pearls and slipped out the door.

He lost bodies in rivers and new graves, the poor ones that saw him misbehave,
He killed a few to quench that war lust and denied himself many more,
Travelling the land without agenda or plan, free as a magpie knave,
Sometimes a thief or a lover, sometimes the other, always richer than before.

Finsbury Wise never intended to lie, or steal and kill, as a child,
He never intended to brag or boast of being rich,
But Finsbury Wise is not like you or I, he just plays at being mild,
His heart is black, as black as pitch.

The spree grew and his clothes grew finer, but he kept a cold reminder,
Those old worn work boot from when he swept floors,
Fear had been discarded, now he was to be a well fed survivor,
And when his end came he would bring it himself, nothing more.

He knew the brimstone of Hell would soon flow and need appease,
Till then he'd live well on broken hearts and mother of pearl,
He would not feel the rope on his neck nor swing from a gibbet in a breeze,
He'd live each day as it came until he was done with this world.

Finsbury Wise kept a small pistol hidden to cheat the hangman's noose,
One bullet he would fire, so to die when 'he' desired,
He was born a pauper and has nothing to loose,
He'd leave nothing but fuel for the pyre.

It took time it seems for the police to see any truth,
The pattern in Finsbury's dark deeds were random and carved in the dark,
A few ladies were missing and so was their loot,
Some were lucky to be just denied a diamond or broken of heart.

Jewellery boxes were bare (last full when Finsbury was there!)
His murderous plot was now thicker than tarred air,
Artists sketched a face and compared the brace,
Finsbury Wise! He was fast approaching truth or dare.

It was at this odd time sweet love finally came to town,
One morning Finsbury Wise took his stroll along along the Strand,
There she was skin and bone, her sweet brow a beggars frown,
It was same girl from his youth reaching out her hand.

Finsbury remembered her scorn from youth when she swore
To 'Marry a Sailor or Lord!' with her girlish pride,
Elizabeth Beck, oh how time has swept you to the floor,
What think you now of life now love has lied?

Ten years gone by that have damaged her and gifted Mr Wise,
He could easily see on the foggy street sweet revenge was at hand,
But what's this! He reaches out tenderly to his surprise,
Beneath the grime she was still lovely, but could barely stand.

Oh how they had changed from that fateful day,
Each had to look at the other and look again,
Each had gambled at fates table in their own way,
As he offered to help he was smiling, he knew her pain.

The hand offered him just skin and bone, as she whispered 'please'
He gathered her in his arms and wrapped her in his warm coat,
revenge could be sweet, he could rightly kill her with ease,
But when she looked in his eyes loves lyre plucked one sweet note.

He lapsed into sanity and took her home that day,
He gave her thick broth and fresh fruit enough,
He nursed poor Elizabeth all the while she stayed,
Finsbury Wise; Killer of women now destined to suffer for love.

He burnt her rags and brought her new dresses and shoes,
Though he knew that net was closing he did this good deed,
He brought flowers to her room and perfumes to choose,
Her health slowly returned and her pain did recede.

The Lord she courted was a bounder and a cad, Elizabeth was led astray,
He was so wicked but a speck beside Finsbury's own dark desires,
She was loving and naive, offered around to Lords that liked to stray,
Finsbury Wise for once could be a killer admired.

But such was his life how could he be a judge of another mans sin,
Yet if he was soon to die was it not time to let in some light?
For two days he did ask her for his title and she finally gave in,
While she slept he went into the night, killed that Lord, it felt right.

She knew right away what he had done in her name,
'Why?' She asked as she cleaned his hands and bloody cheek,
'For you, for love' He told her, knowing he could no longer remain,
So much bad he had done, it was time to face what Hell wanted to reap.

At his desk he did write 'Please forgive me my sins' in a letter before to leave,
All his wealth would be hers to use goodly, the house and gardens too,
He dressed in long coat and trim hat and left as fog trawled the streets,
Finsbury walked all night across the city and knew what to do.

He rented a room in a seedy dive, got drunk and picked a fight,
Police came and he gave them his fists, his name, and was subdued,
Next day he did see in the street on posters his face 'Wanted Dead or Alive'
So he climbed on the roof of the house where he roomed.

Whistles blew down below as the police finally knew,
Finsbury Wise 'lady killer' drew his pistol, so began his end plan,
She was safe across town, different name, able to start anew,
Finsbury Wise shouted to the world 'Here I am!'

Finsbury Wise, Poor Finsbury Wise, a sad end, yet right for all he did do,
Was he to blame for those evil ways, a broken child never mends,
Nothing new.