September 1888
Was when I had my date with fate.
Met a man so filled with hate,
Sometimes in life it pays to be late.
I worked the markets with goods to sell,
Sometimes I admit from grace I fell.
My goods made a profit, bought some ale,
Then back to square one, needed a sale.
Soon I only had me left to sell
in this rotten life now turned to hell.
Night time  at Spitalfields was no place to be,
Twas the place where fate put death with me.
Worked alone from dawn til dawn in fading light.
Found eternal rest under the stars goodnight.