Rosa:
Thank God for that
The sheep has been sheared!
I don’t know how men live
Through heat with a beard
Gladly I shed
This tent of a coat
My explanation
I now emote!
My motive in taking the role
Of a wigg?d and white-whiskered soul
Was to ably disguise
My most feminine size
When I’d take an inquiring stroll
For strangers who’ll chat with a chap
And reveal this and that in a snap
Are remarkably leery
Of women who query
Too much; it’s a great handicap
So this disguise saw me through it!
Playing the part of a man!
Really, there’s nothing much to it
Most any animal can
Climbing out on a limerick
Out on a limerick
Out on a limerick air
I found a theatrical kit
And as Datchery I did my bit
So to clear Neville’s name (I confess to my shame ‘Twas for vengeance as well, I admit)
I followed John Jasper high-low
Found the dens he descends to below
And when he surfaced here
‘Twas immediately clear:
My suspicions were quite apropos
So I crept to the lodgings of Jasper
Dressed in this garb (what a sight!)
There I found my mother’s clasp
The one I gave Edwin that night.
Jasper took it from Ned
After hurling him dead
Towards the weir riverbed, I suppose!
Rosa Bud – Datchery – knows!
And the proof is quite clear
Let us bring Jasper here
To be tried and then tied up and strung!
And from this limerick
Let him be hung!
Neville:
Thank God for that!
I gladly unmask
To wear this coat in June
Is too great a task
There lies Dick Datch’ry
Born on a whim
We can dispense with
Last rites for him!
My motive in taking the role
Of a wigg?d and white-whiskered soul
Was to get myself back
To the city, and track
Down the culprit. With that as my goal
I had also intended to find
Just what Jasper had had on his mind
Much too eager is he
That all Cloisterham see
Me the murderer God, are they blind!
All of these people suspicious
That I had killed Edwin Drood
And with their anger so vicious
I wore this costume so crude
Stepping out on a limerick
Out on a limerick
Out on a limerick air!
I found a theatrical kit
And as Datchery I did my bit
So to clear my good name
From the blemish of blame
(‘Twas for Helena, too, I admit)
I followed John Jasper high low
Found the dens he descends to below
And when Puffer came here
‘Twas immediately clear:
My suspicions were quite apropos
So I crept in the lodgings of Jasper
Dressed in this garb (what a sight!)
There I found Rosa Bud’s clasp
Her mother’s she gave Drood that night!
Jasper took it from Ned
After hurling him dead
Towards the weir riverbed, I suppose!
Tell him that Datchery knows
And the proof is quite clear
Let us bring Jasper here
To be tried and then tied up and strung
And from this limerick
Let him be hung!
