Domini Mortum

By Paul Holbrook

A supernatural murder mystery novel set in late Victorian London.

Monday, 14 December 2015



A funny thing happened today 

As I set forth without delay

I met a man without a head

He had one once but now he’s dead


He strolled quite headless down the street

With swaying arms and stumbling feet

The people screamed, the people cried

‘Why hasn’t this poor bugger died?’


He staggered on, neck spraying blood

Until he landed with a thud

The passers by ran to his aid

And instantly with blood were sprayed


They pressed the wound to stop the bleeding

(Although a head he was so needing)

But with a twitch the body died

So then the blood spray did subside


‘However did he lose his nut?’

‘Where did it land, when it was cut?’

But no lost head was ever found

And headless he was put in ground


The mystery of headless bloke

Has turned into a tale, a joke

But I know where the noggin went

I know what caused this strange event


The head it now wears a big smile

It’s worn it now for quite a while

As I write down my silly verse

I often stop to talk, converse 


With my pet head, sat on my desk

Though some may think it quite grotesque

I somehow think he’s lonely though

And no head should be full of woe


I hate to see my head in sorrow

I’ll get another one tomorrow

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