He never saw the pistol she raised to pump five shots through his brains 
 He never saw the pistol she raised to fire five shots at point blank range 

 She’d looked for good in him, but there was none to be found 
 So she wiped the blood off her chin and left without a sound 

 One by one – her sons were laid to rest, dismembered and doused with lye
 Her legacy [bad word] and a snatch of tawdry rhyme (that reads):

 There’s red upon the moon, for Belle was strong and full of doom
 And think of all the sailor men who will never see St. Paul again