What reason could I have to ever want Drood dead
Why would I want to harm a hair upon his head
But I'm the candidate you rowdy lot have chose
And so my motives now I fear I must disclose
After Jasper laid his nephew in the crypt he fled
With quarts of port, to Drood I drank a toast
When I heard him moaning, groaning, in my drunken head
I thought Drood was a ghost
Then
He started screamin
Just like a deamon
It was a dreadful cry
Drunken stiff, my mind did hear it, as a different kind of spirit
So I bashed him smashed him
The murder
Am I
Much thanks good bye
