Poor Jane Sax, on that fatal day,—
A child scarce seven years of age;
In Churchill field I her did meet,
And shamefully did her illtreat.
Then coward-like I drew my knife,
To rob this helpless child of life:
I stabbed her in the throat—her blood did pour,—
Then left her welt’ring in her gore.
Then I was taken for this cruel deed,
And sent for trial, as you may read;