THE BROOKLYN TRAGEDY.
Written and sung by Fred Bessel.
Kind friends, if you will list to me a sad story I'll relate,
Of that horrible crime in Brooklyn, where poor Luca met his fate;
It was on the 22d of August that this murder did occur,
And in the annals of great crimes 'tis the worst we've ever heard.
On that quiet Summer's morning, when all nature seemed at rest,
Poor Luca was cruelly murdered, now may his soul rest with the blest;
He was so cruelly butchered by that fatal knife,
May God above us rest his soul for all eternal life.
Now the last horrible crime's excitement has not yet died out,
I mean the Lyman S. Weeks, murder, to which there was no doubt;
Now this great crime has shocked us, one and all, throughout the town,
The Luca murder we all know is the most shocking of renown.
The city of churches soon will be called the city of horrible crime,
For many murders have occurred within a few months time;
Poor Luca he was murdered for his money, we all know,
His poor wife is almost stricken down with sorrow, grief and woe.
Why men commit such crimes as these not one of us can say.
Their career is most always cut short at some soon or later day;
'Tis not the murdered man alone who suffered by this crime,
But the heart of all good citizens lay hart from time to time.
Why McElvain committed such a crime not one of us do know.
His heart was filled with murder when be struck that fatal blow;
But as my song progresses with me you will agree.
That he's better under lock and key than mixed up with you and me.
The funeral of poor Luca was a grand and noble sight,
For he belonged to most good orders who's motto is just and right;
At the sight of that poor widow there was good men raved and swore.
It was lucky for McElvain he did not live in days of yore;
For if they did have such men as these in days gone by,
"Judge Lynch "be would quickly step forth and say that they most die;
But those days are now past and gone with me you all will say,
That our Creator tries them all on his great judgment day.