These ballads are not in the books and are supplementary and created by AI based on the book content.
Gather 'round, and harken well,
To a tale of darkness, I shall tell,
Of Alice Cleaver, in desperate plight,
A mother's anguish, a dreadful night.
A laundress by trade, Alice Cleaver's name,
Illegitimate herself, her story untamed,
Raised by another, her true mother concealed,
A secret burden, her fate was sealed.
By a married man, she found love's grasp,
A child conceived, within her clasp,
To Chelsea's Home, she sought refuge true,
But an epileptic, she bid it adieu.
To Edmonton Infirmary, she was sent,
There, on a November day, her child was lent,
Reginald Cleaver, a mere ten weeks old,
A precious life, his story yet to unfold.
The father's scorn, his aid denied,
No affiliation sought, his guilt implied,
With her foster mother, Alice sought a home,
But Haven's rejection, left her alone.
A chance encounter, outside Haven's gate,
A woman's promise, her hopes did elate,
A Catholic Home, in Kilburn it lay,
A meeting set, on a January day.
On December's seventeenth, Alice was admitted,
To Kensington Workhouse, where she resided,
With 5 shillings from her mother's hand,
She spoke of Kilburn, as her final plan.
The details unclear, how the day was spent,
But at eight o'clock, a fateful event,
Alice and Reginald, at Broad Street Station,
A ticket in hand, for their destination.
But confusion struck, the wrong train she took,
Back to Dalston, fate's wicked hook,
At eleven that night, strange as she seemed,
Reginald absent, a mother's heart teemed.
In the morning's light, a grim discovery made,
Reginald Cleaver's life cruelly betrayed,
On the railway line, 'twixt Broad Street and Dalston,
His innocent soul, forever fallen.
Porter's witness, eyes unwaveringly met,
Alice Cleaver identified, a truth firmly set,
Among fourteen women, her face was known,
The weight of guilt, forever her own.
Convicted of murder, her sentence declared,
But reprieve granted, mercy spared,
In the annals of infamy, her name remains,
Alice Cleaver, forever marked by her stains.
May this tale of sorrow, a cautionary decree,
Remind us all of humanity's plea,
To cherish the innocent, protect the weak,
And prevent such tragedies, the world must seek.