It was a song oft repeated around the sly grog shops and two-up schools of the great metropolis. Some say Jim Grey was actually James Grummond, the fiery street preacher and ex-pugilist. Other versions contend that Anne was none other than Agnes O’Donnell, the notorious con woman and consort of actors and other such rogues. Whatever the truth, the melody is long forgotten now, as are the words for the most part, but occasionally at gatherings of the old folk, somebody will recite this old ballad and bring a smile to many an old timer’s face – particularly the ladies, who are wont to call the tale – ‘Anne’s Sweet Revenge.’
THE BUTCHER’S APPRENTICE
Jim was a butcher highly skilled,
Well-practiced on human bone
Unsure of how many he’d killed,
He’d always slept well at home
Anne walked into Jim’s butcher shop,
Dressed like a tart off the street
She said to old Jimmy mid-chop,
‘I want to learn to cut meat.’
‘Your plea is decidedly strange,’
Said Jim, sharpening his knives,
(These blades were the top of the range,
The ones he’d used on his wives!)
Anne said, ‘I’ve no coin in my house,
What would you charge poor old me?’
Jim Grey said ‘Unbutton your blouse,
And the first lesson’s on me.’
At Anne’s smile, Jim’s pale blue eyes rolled,
Beauty everywhere he looked!
He saw his future life unfold
From then on Jim Grey was hooked
‘Which meat, would Anne like me to chop?
Poultry, pork or try pot luck?
Beef or chicken, where should I stop?
She said, ‘I’d like a good duck.’
‘Please Jim, tell me what the cops missed,
How did you kill Ronnie Fleck?’
He gripped the knife and clenched his fist,
And neatly chopped the duck’s neck
Show me what happened to that bloke,
The one they called Mister Big
Jim’s knife swung down and in one stroke,
Decapitated a pig!
‘Is that a snag in your pocket,
Or are you pleased to see me?
Best go to the door and lock it,
And I’ll pour us some sweet tea.’
Jim locked the door and scanned the street
And wished Anne would cease her chat
He drooled like a sheepdog on heat
As Anne took off her fine hat
Anne said, ‘Let’s play a sexy game
I’ll strip to my underwear,’
Jim, (who was smitten by this dame),
Let her tie him to a chair!
‘So Jim, I have come here to learn,
And your customers have gone,
It’s high time that I had a turn
What meat should I practice on?’
Anne noticed some jars on a shelf
‘What’s in those receptacles?’
Jim replied, (quite pleased with himself),
‘They’re full of goats’ testicles.’
She picked one and rolled it just so,
Then let loose a wicked laugh
Swinging the knife with one deft blow,
Anne cleanly sliced it in half!
She grabbed hold of a meat cleaver,
And held it to Jim Grey’s throat
She said, ‘You’re a cruel deceiver,
And possess balls like a goat.’
‘Now you’d better talk and make sense,’
Anne said in tones cold and clear
She gave him a glare so intense,
That Jim was shaking with fear
‘Remember old Mrs Dupre,
What was it you killed her for?’
‘She was a madame,’ said Jim Grey,
‘And the mother of a whore.’
‘So you say I’m a whore, Jim Grey?
You wicked low-life bugger,
Because Penelope Dupre,
Was my sweet darling mother!’
Jim’s teeth chattered and his eyes bulged,
He begged, ‘Forgive me, won’t you?’
Anne said, ‘For what you have divulged,
There is just one thing to do.”
She said, ‘Why couldn’t you leave her?
In my dreams she screams and calls,
You’ve taught me to use this cleaver,
Now say farewell to your balls.’
Photo by Kyle Mackie on Unsplash
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