Never took a liking to or understood the term

But I knew well the purpose of its composition, to make others squirm

Nonetheless

I must protest

My work was executed with fine precision

Every sling a premeditated decision

That no other would ever match

My art was, is beyond the measures of the past

I carefully cut those corroded cadavers

Only to have my craft be honed down to an unscrupulous mad hatter?

Who are they to dub me a flittering clipper?

I am far too slicker

To be a mere evening thriller

My hands never faltered as I sliced precisely right

Ha, let my craftsmanship speak for itself

For to this day, not one has yet

To forget

And figure

Who, from HELL, is Jack the Ripper?