The devil snatched her clear away
And tore her raving limb from limb,
Long had she sold her soul to him—
Mr. Wedderburn suddenly clenched his hand on the table, his eyes were very dark, his face very pale.
“Fine matter for your hawkers to shout and the gutter scum to read,” he said thickly, “Go on.”
His brother, seeing clear his end,
(Indeed he knew that God would send
The same unto them all)
Vowed he would Jack Ketch forestall
And so himself he hanged.